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The Garden.(Orwell Road..late 50’s) The gardener Fey...eyes to the groundA pipe..A cough....a running noseWherever he rakes or digs or hoesA tobacco ...

  The Funeral is Over It’s noon on Christmas day ... Puccini playsAve Maria ...  I’m at a funeral Attending my own ...

The Feasting Kind There is a throbbing in the corridor...outside my doorAs if a pipe is choked in London on this ...

The Fear of Dark. From the satellite...we see electricityBurning from every land...hot brilliance of fires on earth...our burning planetThat glare that ...

The End of Summer. So soon in winter boots..summer never came...Just wentBad fruit in pickle jarsUntemptingMemories…untempting. Sliding off this poleAll summer slippery ...

The Desert of Your Mind. In the desert of your mind are sharp crystalline stone’sCutting into everything you see.The glaze of ...

The Day of Leaving. I have gone to my mother in a dream so many timesShe’s always in a house that ...

The Cockle Pickers.. Football :(( Out there upon the moist Lagoon , the cockle pickers bend..near Faro Beach...Ripples of tide..forever on ...

The Bounce. In that strange hotelWe stood facing each other with awkward elbows.Just one night you said leavingSee you tomorrow. At your ...

That Fatal Walk The avery outside this Melbourne house sings morning birdsong shrill and loudThe sun already hot , shines thru ...

Taxing my Car. For Phillipa Perry. You suggested I write a poem about taxing my car.....renewing the NCT. Yawn.Never in the history ...

Susan B. Anthony. Even those who live within the bars of night-mare..have a dreamAnd those who seem unlikely can have the ...

Speak to me wall...you have been my witness...Seen the digital sword that cut me to bits ...Bruised me with a ...

Slouch Fowl I sit fat as a hen with eggThinking of the day that’s in it...Of the habitual chores that glare ...

Rhubarb I walked into the garden..sunshine and blackbird songI cut a basketful of ruby stems..removed the leavesAnd walked indoors againI chopped ...

Photoshop Woman... ...face wiped Swiped like a credit card Each one the sameTeeth and bland...Hair strandsSuccumb to vanity. Face flatCheek bone ...

Poems - 2012