Pink moon

Full moon casts

no shadow, pulls


water from our cells

leaving only madness.


No shadow on

a purple lawn


tulips eerie white

in the lamp light


night memory

haunts me.


Room sweats

blossom’s orange bloom


Mediterranean tresses.

Fingers of the East


pull me towards

another dawn


rocked in Earth’s



My muse has fled

she’s flicked her hair


& disappeared.


She’s sick of

faithless lovers


rainy days,

the tick, tock,


of mortality.


My muse has left

she’s whirling with


the kestrel, & I’m

chasing sunbeams


a golden pathway

left by winged feet


wide expanse of

blue blue yonder


where the light


Lemon tree


Lemon blossom sweet

at my window


far from Spanish hills

you bloom


I whisper to you

apologise for the pinch


of English spring:

no coronet of sun


to crown your

pretty head.


Your essence

soothes me.


Citrus scent

with undertone


of musk,

you must


miss your lovers.


Over on my sill

orange stares


at you,

less abandoned


compact & smugly




Who ever

Who, ever thought

we’d live this long


grow grey & jowly

our spirits tired of




‘’Forever’’ was

a misused word


bandied on the stage

of youth.


Here I watch the trees

watch, before & after me.


Those games we played

the songs we chose


to cleave to:


our children grown

from playing at our knees


are strangers now.


We never knew

we’d grow this old


our poets’ hearts

still singing, laughing


at the soft creep

of years.



House holds

its breath,


sighs out

the seasons


whisper of

lost memory


passing of the



like minutes.


Time holds

my hand


these kisses

that I knew


our love

so all consuming


has faded

to a smile


a passing



Yet spring is

in my haiir


the breeze



knots & hasps

it leaves us





Narcissus hangs



filling room with

spring scent


the thought

of love.


Narcissus rang



talking always

of himself;


walked into

the mirror


of my eye

lodged there




Narcissus pink



heavy petals

stroke the vase


promising to fall

as I might


under your

Narcissus thrall.




[Listen here ]

Spring tiptoes

in this year


acid green puffs

through old


crushed copper.


I tend borrowed

soil: earth crumbles


sensate, stuck sticky

beneath nails.


All is new, perfect,

intrinsic life:


I stand erect

like cherry attending


bumbling bee.


Haunting the twilight

I walk a fine line


nostrils flaming.