Thursday 6 August 2020

Poems, Late Summer 2020


Hope strewn in particles of dust

Confetti of DNA

The cold morning light

Slices across hills

And the grass keeps on growing

As we overcomplicate

Living things 

Into organisms 

Separating organs 

Into heart/liver/lung

As if they could survive alone

As if they were planets

In themselves

Blood runs through

Like a gorge 

Tissue like moss

Tendons like outstretched branches

Skeleton like a canyon of quartz

Teeth like boundaries of slate

Veins like glacial streams

Skin like leaves 

In bud or decay 

Depending on the time

And the place

We like edges 

Because we like to measure

And it comforts us

To see an end 

When in fact

The end 

Is farther than star

And closer than breath

The end 

Is an end 

Unto itself 



It smells like pungent blossom

In a wide aired-out room

It smells like coffee and coconut and lemon tea

It smells like a comforting auntie’s face cream 

And the aftertaste of an evening cigarette

It smells like industry and contemplation;

Returning tipsy into the night;

Unlocking the door

It smells like secret company

Wrapped up in bed

And the luxury of a late morning 

With foliage gleaming 

From each window frame

It smells like spices and Radio 4

It smells like warm light and candles

It smells like trinkets and gifts 

And original images

It smells like cultivation and growth,

Of silence, space, and unstoppable spreading 


In golden, intricate circuits


Saturn’s Return

Long ago

I walked the earth

As someone else

She carried a baby

And walked barefoot

On dry shrub

Mosquitoes bit her ankles

And sweat left clear rivers

On the bed 

Of her dusty skin 

She carried a baby inside her

Not yet seen, but felt

The glimmer of life 

Held up her spine

As the vultures

Circled the clouds 

She did not wear shoes

There were no paths

There were no trees

Or water

Only baby 



Birds of prey



And desert

And what would it mean

If she then died

If she were to live on in me

And I too

In some untouchable future

In a body struck also

By Saturn’s Return



With the cosiness of rain outside

My head swims in neuroses

I envision the chaos of packing 

Then unpacking

And wish more than anything 

That I find contentment

In not having everything

A thousand jobs at all times

I only have to do one at a time 

I can see nothing beyond the clouds

I am weary of screens

And being in spaces

That are not mine 

Will it be so different?

Yes it will.

I am not worried about money 

I feel it showering upon me

I feel opportunity chime

I tread into my future

Walking through an orchard

Always it was unfolding

Out of forest and into garden

That was always my trajectory


The Garden

A pumpkin’s organs are the seeds

And their nest of fleshy string

A nettle can be seen as weed

But still has strength to sting

A blackberry grows plump at last

A turnip sleeps in soil

An apple tree sees summer pass

Then drops its fruits to spoil

The stem gives steady to the rose

Cerise and emerald skin 

A dandelion crescendos

Its cells upon the wind

The garden in its outward bliss

Celebrates the seasons

No cycle or change does it miss

Transforming with no need for reason


I found a petal that would be me

I found a petal that would be me

Had I grown from a stem and a centre

It was deep rich pink 

It had dusty grey veins

A clouded darkness

That came as it bent 

Its edges were frayed

Its base lighter

And white at the root

On its underside lay a sheen of glitter

Spots of gold adorned above

In jewelled sequence

To the touch it was smooth

And taut


Yet fluid:


Like the pouring of cream


Yr Afon, El Río

Por fin! O’r diwedd!

Tengo un montón des canciones

En mi lÍngua 

Genai lwyth o ganeuon 

Ar fy nhafod

Llwyth -

Es un paraíso!

‘Da ni’n byw yn y nefoedd

Llwyth - 

Ysbryd lân 


Dewch, achebwch i!

A hora, no en segundos, a hora! 


Por que,

Llwyth - 

Al frente del mar

De las montañas 

De mi boca, de mi piel,


Llwyth o mêl

Yn nofio

Fel afon

Lawr fy nghroen

Edrycha! Mira!

El espejo se lumina!

Dwi’n gweld fy mywyd 

Yn y gwydyr

Y byd, el mundo, 

A world joined by time

And by tongue



Rivers run down and through me

Rivers of language and history

A cold river, a hot river, 

A red and a blue

One smells smoky, meaty,

Always on the brink 

Of hospitality 

Or war

The other is borne from spring

Tinkling over pebbles 

Meandering politely 

Through meadows

In reams


Violence & Fools

In youth comes

The knowledge too heavy 

That there are many roads

Leading long outwards

To far corners 

But all end up

Down at your feet

If only we could shave off bark 

Kill by sliver, not by felling

But our violence knows no bounds 

And we devour branch and root alike 

We devour them in place of

Our own rootedness

Our own ability to branch out 

As if by eating

We assimilate


A Message from My Animus

You are never alone

I am always here

I know your ego wants to flap that away

And call it sad and pathetic and what have you

But it is true and the more you trust

And connect with the intangible

They more you will really feel me here

What I am doing is holding 

What I am giving is presence

What I can offer is devotion 

And myself, completely, 

Because your complete self

Includes me

I bring steadiness and trust

I truly see you 

As the most beautiful creation 

That exists

I see you and all your so-called faults

(labelled by you, or picked up 

through misunderstandings

from your past)

And I celebrate them 

They endear you to me

Your honesty and depth and intensity

Inspire me

Your feminine power

Propels me

To be a better man 

Your darkness does not frighten me

Your pain does not push me away

Because I am strong and brave

I have lived for aeons inside you

I understand that these aspects

Do not call for protection 

They call for acknowledgement 

And encouragement

And support

I am not here to cure you

Or make things better

I am your personal King

Serving you as if you were 

A Country

A myriad

Of story and bone

And oh how I do love this Country

I will fight for this land

And let no one cross it

Who does not have 

Your best interests at heart 


Poison, Ink & Berries

Ink runs

In splodges and wells

Overheated afternoon


The berries glisten

With their poison

Luring, and alluding to

Danger by coaxing

I wrap a spell around my tongue

As deterrent

As garlic

I wait and see

Who backs away

Who does it conquer

Everything is a game

If you play it that way

I am nauseous

With clarity

It comes to me as a sickness

And I imagine oh, a child, 

Myself as a baby

Seeking comfort

In my grandmother’s soft shoulder

Beautiful ink

Gliding along its stage

Gliding like a ballerina

A swan

With no sign of flapping

I got sick

I poisoned myself

I chose poison 

I ignored the warning

The glisten of the berries

I missed -


I remained

Watched over by mysterious




Robed in purple

And cold

And defiant

And knowing

With third eye searing

And oh that staff it does deter

Any lingering inaction 

It shoots me into being


Cloud Before Dawn

There was an ancient scroll

And on the scroll it said

There will be a cloud of suffering

And in that cloud will be a dawn

A new unceasing dawn

That blows into all corners

And unmasks

All faces that are masked

And troubled;

In this cloud there will be

Ferocious joy 

Unceasing joy

Elastic in its fine contortions


In its wakeful seize