My Heart Leaps Up - by
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
growing up
Healings 2 - by
At midnight the north sky is blues and greys, with a thin fissure of citrine just above the horizon. It’s light when you wake, regardless of the hour. At 2 or 4 or 6am, you breathe light into your body. A rose, a briar rose. A wild rose and its thorned stem. What did Burns […]
In Mrs Tilscher’s Class - by
You could travel up the Blue Nile
with your finger, tracing the route
while Mrs Tilscher chanted the scenery.
Tana. Ethiopia. Khartoum. Aswân.
Poem for Myself on My Fiftieth Birthday - by
Never written a poem for yourself
/ have you, you daft old bugger? Well
/ here goes.
/
/ …
The First Kiss - by
What a disappointment. Nothing like the movies,
/ nothing like the mind. A mass of muscles writhing,
/ an awkward hand on a tightened…
The Mower - by
When I was young and miserable,
/ a misfit and a rebel,
/ almost never out of trouble,
/ desperate to escape school,
/ time dawdled.
/ …
To Kate at Twenty-Five - by
or as if in one brief flash I’d seen
/ a single track – yours forward, mine back.
/ …
Gap Year - by
Gap Year
/ (for Mateo)
/
/ I
/ I remember your Moses basket before you were born.
/ I’d stare at the fleecy white sheet for days, weeks,
/ willing…
Za vselej… - by
Za vselej je zastal otrok pred hišo
/ in naglo stekel proč – za vselej, deček.
/ Odrastel bo, vzhrumel in se utišal,
/ potoval, ljubil,…