Tag Archives: COMMENT

HONESTLY .. .

honestly .. . .. I wandered by my hometown station no trains run anymore they dug up the track there is an antique dealer there he opens up on three days a week to sell old things not chicken wings … Continue reading

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HOWL TWiCE .. .

Howl Twice .. . We met this side of dawn neat satchels on our backs to search and find Zanadu people knew as East Ewell in what was known then as ‘the stockbroker belt’ of the sprawl that was Lond-on … Continue reading

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THE BICKER WOMEN .. .

THE BICKER WOMEN .. . Who wears best this shawl of uncertainty  whose mind is trained of fears furrowto bow at noon – the bells of the Angelus  when blackened clouds of hell descendaround the fair shoulders of the puissant  … Continue reading

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PERIWINKLE MEETS INDIGO and THEY HAVE CHILDREN .. .

Periwinkle meets Indigo and they have children .. . . . There is a gap in the cloud today     where the ink has run and stained the sky the most perfect blue where rain falls through     … Continue reading

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TAKING BACK HARLEM .. .

. .. taking back Harlem .. . . I stood on the girder-bridge where cold grey water passes wiped my tear-stained face tried to clear the mote stuck ote’ my eye I have never been to Harlem The Clyde she … Continue reading

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AS LONG AS YOU SLEEP .. .

As long as you sleep .. . As long as you sleep   I will watch over you   to warn you of the crashing waves   the march of time   relentless in its disdain of life Your caustic … Continue reading

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. .. PICTURE POSTCARD ALBUM .. .

. .. picture postcard album .. . . .. some are yellowed, some are straighta few hardly come into viewthey are lost somewhere in Jonah’s etherat the bottom of the whalein the slime that’s part digestedpicture postcards leave a trail … Continue reading

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A SOCIAL DRAMA .. .

A SOCIAL DRAMA .. . the czars paid full price .. .  . .. Catapults and carnage the winter solstice it is doneMichaelangelo performingat the Duomo the dying swan Auntie Edie hangs her washingon her taught, rope-twine linehides her knickers … Continue reading

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YOUR BOUGHS OF PLENTY .. .

Your boughs of plenty .. . Your boughs of plenty   laden down your arms of joy   greedy green of goblin’s gold your eyes hidden     blinkered, sightless         neath your eye-line shadow     … Continue reading

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ALL I SEE IS HATRED .. .

All I see is hatred .. . . .. (echoes of Masters of War) … I look at your stony face and all I see is your hatred the hatred you have unleashed upon this sad, worried world not curbed … Continue reading

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