Strewth!

Getting up too close to the mirror of poetry,

all you see are reflected egos

and stories which never happened.

White Noise

Take the writing from the page

and put it in the material world.

 

What was white, blank,

‘waste of space/paper’

is now silence.

Sun

Eyes closed, I stand and face

the unexpected autumn sun,

my skin taking delight

in the warmth of the rays.

 

The sun has been, and doubtless still is,

a goddess or god,

and it seems unlikely that people would worship

an entity which they didn’t believe

had divine consciousness.

 

With this in mind, I raise my arms

and proclaim a spontaneous

prayer of thanks.

 

Although the raising of the arms

was poetic licence,

and the proclamation was in my head.

 

There’s enough to contend with

on crowded railway platforms as it is.

New Restrictions

   after Dean Young

 

I don’t care…

 

if you have

learnt all of the ‘popular’

bits of Shakespeare in order to appear

more roundedly intellectual

than you actually are

 

or if you once saw a cloud

that looked like a bucket of gladioli

 

or you’re ambidextrous,

but only in one hand,

 

or how tall you are

 

or whether you prefer

the burnt orange bedspread

 

or you have too many pairs

of cheap reading glasses

 

or whatever tiddlywinks team

you claim to support

 

or if very blue

is your favourite colour

 

or if you really did meet

Alan Watts on the road to Damascus

 

or if you escaped from Alcatraz

for your summer holiday

 

or which wretched school you went to

or if you can’t watch a sunset

without running for cover

 

or anything that you could

possibly think of…

 

You can’t park here.