Concordance

This concordance provides an index to every word in the poems, excluding a list of common "stopwords". It may be useful in finding a half-remembered poem, and perhaps in looking at the usage of words in the poems as a whole. It will be readable only on a large screen.

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

G

Destination(and beginning—for

G ) // // From random junctures in primeval winds // // a billion ran

bird sings // // growing bright // //

gadget pings // // go away // // sleep clings // // break of day //

ucted // // objects: defunct household

gadgets , // // broken furniture, shelves no longer // // serving any

ation pouring, I can understand— // //

Gaea would soak it up when poured on land, // // Poseidon take it whe

On offerings to the gods

eaming in his knight’s array // // And

gaily singing on his way // // Rode bold Sir Lancelot. // // Years h

The Lady’s Maid

l. // // And as we lived and loved and

gained // // and learnt and gave and lost, // // we let each thread

in again. // // Beards are great when

gales are threatening // // keep drafts out and comfort in—but // //

rs, more darknesses // // more storms,

gales , lightning bolts // // more days of sun or rain or passing clou

ic dust, // // soft breezes and winter

gales . // // Was I shipwrecked? Or cast overboard to avert shipwreck

felt right. // // Many art

galleries in many places. Three solid days in the Uffizi in Florence.

Fragments of a life

// // In rollicking verse // // On a

galloping horse— // // But Aix was as far as he went. // // In Frida

A poem for free

o fend off the rain. // // What an odd

game —to swallow the rain! // // He swallowed the rain to put out the

the top // // so that the same period

games // // allow the lines to peter out // // and stop. // // † as

or ten, // // I would play competitive

games // // in the vast (as it felt) asphalt playground // // just a

e zeta factor // // and my clear beta,

gamma , delta connection // // is screwed up by a zeta factor // // i

hat suggestion // // to make the beta,

gamma , delta link. // // 1 back: frustration // // Damn—I had forgo

rward: inspiration // // Alpha, beta,

gamma , delta. // // The way is clear. This formulation // // both l

he tentacles of zeta // // by striking

gamma from consideration // // and making an approximate relation //

en once— // // but they had filled the

gap to make a join // // with the neighbouring block, leaving a row o

Peckham 1969—1991

Nigel Farrage // // has a mouth like a

garage — // // he opens it ever so wide // // and you can see all the

h // // At one end of the bench in the

garage sits // // a miniature wooden eight-drawered chest // // give

ely to be found // // elsewhere in the

garage ). // // The bench was once // // a kitchen dresser, already a

f a field // // the trees in the front

garden // // a triangle of back gardens, full of trees // // along a

Beds and trees and windows

oor front. // // Across the tiny front

garden and the street // // a tee-junction, and a line of sight // /

Beds and trees and windows

udent 1880s) // // builds a lab in her

garden // // in Reigate, on her way to // // recognition, fellowship

There must be moonshine

r-run Shalott? // // She who hath this

garden laid // // —Nurturing the wayward seed, // // Planting out th

The Lady’s Maid

nclosed within its arms // // a walled

garden , left untended // // for maybe thirty years. A winding path /

Stages // // Hanging

garden . Send a letter. // // Fresh clay tablet, stylus, scribe. // /

// // of pure water: a still. // //

Garden shed // // with a still? Local // // excise officer takes to

There must be moonshine

e tops of // // the trees in the front

garden . // // The second was at the back // // of a London terrace i

Beds and trees and windows

ght or day; // // the gardens, and the

garden walls // // just slipped away. // // What country lanes or ci

The dream I dreamt

whether it was night or day; // // the

gardens , and the garden walls // // just slipped away. // // What co

The dream I dreamt

front garden // // a triangle of back

gardens , full of trees // // along a tree-lined road into the distanc

Beds and trees and windows

we could see // // a triangle of back

gardens , full of trees. // // In our first house together // // the

Beds and trees and windows

found sleeping furiously // // // The

garlic slices the beef granule. // // The first boilers of iron plate

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

in place until at home // // the small

gas fire has warmed the room // // against the cold outside. // // (

Walking in winter

-fronted. // // No electricity— // //

gas lighting from the thirties; // // two taps; one loo // // in a l

sixty nine the house was lit // // by

gas , with open fires the only heat. // // The lino on the hall floor

Peckham 1969—1991

eseed and the corn. // // The five-bar

gate , the muddy track on the tarmac road. // // The walled paddock an

The rain and the air

rown to full maturity // // to an iron-

gated pointed arch // // piercing the wall, built like the house //

sands and soft mudflats: // // time to

gather pace. // // Now I rush on down the creek // // bearing loose

, shop-window-browsing. // // A group,

gathered around and gazing into // // one window; but one young man h

shers // // are visible within. // //

Gathered round about, a motley crew // // of categories in boxes, jar

Gathering dark // // // // // // // // // // // // // //

one head, or a small cut brass piece by

Gaudier -Brzeska, and put it into our hands). She introduced me to so

Fragments of a life

wn the problem // // throwing down the

gauntlet // // battening down the hatches // // closing down the arg

Locking down too

level with the top, // // running the

gauntlet of the winter storm. // // The tide is high, and every wave

Walking in winter

loved and gained // // and learnt and

gave and lost, // // we let each thread unroll behind, // // laying

I could see was sky. // // But rising

gave me sight // // of an acacia, a fence and many // // trees aroun

Beds and trees and windows

from looking at // // the focus of her

gaze : does he not want // // to tell? // // This painting has a priv

Cape Cod Morning

ewer still will pause or stay // // To

gaze down on the ruins gray // // That scar remote Shalott. // // In

The Lady’s Maid

to the lapping of the water, // // and

gaze into space. // // We have the space // // and the time // // t

ng. // // A group, gathered around and

gazing into // // one window; but one young man half-turned // // ac

e, though, they seem // // to switch a

gear , and take a lurch // // at some acute, unmeasured angle. // //

with a raucous song: // // A thousand

geese are flying into night. // //

Wells in winter

Sharp lines // // High overhead, the

geese are flying out // // on their twice-a-day migration between fee

curlews, more ragged, slanting lines of

geese // // more travels, journeys, voyages, expeditions // // more

d fifty thousand: Low Countries // //

Gelderland ; Glabbeek; Gramsbergen // // conurbations; drained land //

and air; no fire and no gold, // // no

gems nor coins nor jewels; just the old // // and weathered hills, cr

Daydream Dale Journey

agement. As the day went on, // // we

generated quantities of fuel // // and built a roaring blaze. Then l

king the necessary repairs // // for a

generation of grandchildren. // //

becomes faint; // // just as each new

generation soon finds itself // // rich rediscovering Bach’s counterp

eck? // // I cannot now recall. // //

Generations and generations // // of fishermen and trading sailors //

urs, the apes // // advance across the

generations . Each // // sentient being touches and reshapes // // th

nnot now recall. // // Generations and

generations // // of fishermen and trading sailors // // ply back an

g vices added to those // // caused by

generations of kitchen knives. // // Clearance time. What can I poss

found // // how good sex is—to mix the

genes around. // // The plants, the fish, the dinosaurs, the apes //

// // of the light. Do not // // go

gentle into that good night. // // … and one true fib // // Here, //

Fibonacci series

e.) // // The bracken spreads across a

gentle slope // // towards the river. A line of ancient oaks // //

... // // But now no more— // // your

gentle snore // // puts all the ghosts to flight. // //

ght. // // Another softness, giant but

gentle . // // Soft digits hold softly, lift softly // // place softl

ong // // The tide is out, the creek a

gentle trickle // // Hear the marsh-birds calling // // the drying s

go, // // to travel in the mind, some

gentle // // way to wander into // // a better place, a future that

g is in their sights— // // time for a

gentler stream. // // Now I feel the flood’s return // // push again

scree the open path leads on, // // a

gentler walk, to bare bleak Malham Tarn. // // Then back to skirt the

Daydream Dale Journey

my sleep // // I hear the ground-swell

gently break and sift, // // pushing the shingle back and forth and t

h as satin, // // drifting or paddling

gently side by side, // // through clear and cool and quiet evening s

Recorded syllables

// After the climb, // // the moor is

gently undulating, the path // // well-marked, flat wet stones // //

s of buildings, human artifacts. // //

Geological time // // is foreshortened. This is now, here, // // re

Covehithe, Suffolk

payer funding, and get old saint // //

George of the Chancel to throw in some too.” // // So the project pro

Troubled waters

he world just so. // // True love will

germinate and grow, // // all tribulations to displace, // // far aw

The world just so

scraping has ceased. // // This drain

germinates here. // //

Jacob van Artevelde makes an expansive

gesture // // towards the setting sun. // // Go west, young man? No

A poem for free

rthy guide; // // his voice is lively,

gestures wide. // // The sun and wind upon the trees outside… // //

ing strays. // // His voice is lively,

gestures wide. // // There is much sense in what he says. // // Smal

ecture room // // His voice is lively,

gestures wide— // // there is much sense in what he says, // // thro

m/c // // Washing // // Plan finances—

get advisor? G’s contact maybe // // Ring M about Xmas // // Ring To

Notes to a life

terse verse form, you see, // // I can

get along just fine. // // But seven feet! I must admit that seems e

line? // // Oh bugger! Now we have to

get away. // //

the slime on it? // // Wonder if I can

get it to do // // anything remotely interesting? // //

it’s not late. // // I’m sure they’ll

get it to where I reside— // // not distance, but wait. // //

foraging across the bank // // lets me

get much closer // // before giving me an earful. // // To my left,

I’ll give it some taxpayer funding, and

get old saint // // George of the Chancel to throw in some too.” //

Troubled waters

blue skies // // legs itch // // must

get on // // first scratch // // clothes on // // spell broken //

r Hitler came to power). // // Then we

get on with our lives: // // the repainting can wait. // // I go to

/ // too many small coins. // // Must

get rid of the pennies // // (the pounds get rid of themselves). //

t rid of the pennies // // (the pounds

get rid of themselves). // //

a chasm, ford a raging torrent, // //

get rolled over by an avalanche, // // fall through a wormhole, or cr

Capricorn suite

o-coast walk devised by Wainwright, you

get sunburnt on the right side of your face only. As Judith had broke

Fragments of a life

ost Evil deposes poor Boris, and // //

gets the Red Margaret to look at the case. // // “It’s been a fiasco,

Troubled waters

f our cushions are missing. // // It’s

getting beyond a bad joke. // // Destroying our comfort’s as rotten /

One of our cushions

ter, // // disturbing our roll, // //

getting higher and closer. // // And the noise. // // A few ranks ah

umbers not: // // a stealth invasion’s

getting off the ground. // // Up on the surface and for far around, /

Capricorn suite

the secret island map? // // (Am I now

getting warm or am I quite cold— // // should I rest or take a nap?)

The truth about x

// // From Brussels by local train to

Ghent : canals and cobbled streets // // and beer and chocolate shops

A poem for free

al box. // // There once was a poet in

Ghent // // Who set out with the best of intent // // In rollicking

A poem for free

/ your gentle snore // // puts all the

ghosts to flight. // //

harsher light. // // Another softness,

giant but gentle. // // Soft digits hold softly, lift softly // // p

three // // they raised the ramparts:

giant concrete blocks // // on piles all along the shingle beach. //

Walking in winter

anisms in the civic belltower— // // a

giant musical box. // // There once was a poet in Ghent // // Who se

A poem for free

or there— // // Who can that attactive

girl be? // // I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. // /

All done with mirrors

lass in her hand. // // See the pretty

girl in that mirror there— // // Who can that attactive girl be? //

All done with mirrors

d or of peaceful earth, // // the mill-

girl’s beauty or the maiden’s death, // // the trout that dart and pa

ps // // (Linnean Society 1904, // //

Girton College 1913). // // The Reigate lab, of course // // has a s

There must be moonshine

// // Ethel Sargant, botanist // // (

Girton student 1880s) // // builds a lab in her garden // // in Reig

There must be moonshine

erick // // There was an old Fellow of

Girton // // who always made love with his shirt on. // // Saying “N

for giving and receiving. // // Did I

give enough? // // I cannot say. // //

needs time to come through. // // I’ll

give it some taxpayer funding, and get old saint // // George of the

Troubled waters

/ And we can some direction find // //

Give me some wind to blow us away // //

/ No hope of whistling up a wind // //

Give me some wind to blow us away // // Adrift the middle of the sea

// The sails clatter as we roll // //

Give me some wind to blow us away // // Horizon’s clear from end to e

And there is nothing here for me // //

Give me some wind to blow us away // // Just feel the breathless sun

ut we are bound for nowhere fast // //

Give me some wind to blow us away // // No wind! we wallow in the sw

// And seek out any shade we can // //

Give me some wind to blow us away // // Now sluice the decks to cool

// And pour a bucket on my head // //

Give me some wind to blow us away // // Perhaps tomorrow there’ll be

They should have

given me a plastic plate // // More! I want some more! // // A spoo

They should have given me a plastic plate

ture wooden eight-drawered chest // //

given to me (budding carpenter) as a child // // for nails and screws

// // Emily Thornberry’s // // photo

gives Labour a // // cardiovascular // // seismic event. // //

Unnatural disasters

direction from minute to minute; // //

gives me siblings to chase or criss-cross // // over and under // //

different ways. // // Days enough for

giving and receiving. // // Did I give enough? // // I cannot say. /

/ lets me get much closer // // before

giving me an earful. // // To my left, the foraging ground: a smooth

sand: Low Countries // // Gelderland;

Glabbeek ; Gramsbergen // // conurbations; drained land // // One to

f rock—or maybe ice // // from a dying

glacier . // // On the next bend, the banks // // will exchange chara

Gladknots // // I think. // // I’m

glad , I think. // // I think that I’m glad // // (therefore I am tha

glad // // (therefore I am that). I’m

glad . // // I’m glad that I think // // (therefore I’m glad that I a

glad that I think // // (therefore I’m

glad that I am). // // That’s what I think. // //

efore I am that). I’m glad. // // I’m

glad that I think // // (therefore I’m glad that I am). // // That’s

o // // jump on the bandwagon he’ll be

glad .” // // The Boris is happy. “We need a designer with // // bol

Troubled waters

glad, I think. // // I think that I’m

glad // // (therefore I am that). I’m glad. // // I’m glad that I t

ifferent stitch to cast? // // No, I’m

glad we did not meet // // before the alotted time: // // that we co

Gladknots // // I think. // // I’m glad, I think. // // I think tha

Sat night—check time // // Tickets to

Glasgow 6th-7th // // Camera in bag for Mon // // Did I submit tax f

Notes to a life

ir pretty maid // // with a comb and a

glass in her hand. // // See the pretty girl in that mirror there— //

All done with mirrors

of them all? // // (The cruel looking-

glass that will never show a lass // // As comely or as kindly or as

All done with mirrors

now. // // We have no crystal ball, no

glass . // // The light has all gone, now. // //

k. // // Raindrops slanting across the

glass . // // We jump at a sudden sound-blast— // // another train on

eon light // // spilling through plate-

glass windows // // across the pavement. // // A bartender bent to w

cause the fellow // // was not wearing

glasses . // //

tterned lattices of life // // through

glasses , darkly. // // —A fragment, formulated forty years ago // //

. A winding path // // leads from the

glazed back door // // through box and holly grown to full maturity /

Not until the fateful day // // When,

gleaming in his knight’s array // // And gaily singing on his way //

The Lady’s Maid

// the oyster-catcher, the egret, the

gliding gull. // // What do they know, the rain and the air? // // T

The rain and the air

rning sunlight fills // // the room we

glimpse inside. A woman leans // // upon a table in the window, look

Cape Cod Morning

such a mundane scene // // so briefly

glimpsed , make my muse suggest // // just three alliterative lines—at

us strong. // // Occasionally, I catch

glimpses // // of the ranks ahead. // // But mostly, I can see // /

know, the rain and the air? // // The

glistening mud left by the ebb-tide. // // The moored boat listing on

The rain and the air

room. // // Only through the mirror’s

gloam // // Dared she look to Camelot. // // Not until the fateful d

The Lady’s Maid

me year old lifeboat // // restored to

glory // // motors smoothly up the creek // // in livery resplendent

cream) // // // // Dr Foster went to

Gloucester // // for a summer spin— // // and liked a lass from Lanc

f true gloves never did run smooth. No

glove lost. // // We have nothing to wear but wear itself. Without w

Vagrant monosyllables

e the world go round, and all’s fair in

gloves and war, though the course of true gloves never did run smooth.

Vagrant monosyllables

the sons, even if living in zen. // //

Gloves are a many-splendoured thing. Gloves make the world go round,

Vagrant monosyllables

/ Gloves are a many-splendoured thing.

Gloves make the world go round, and all’s fair in gloves and war, thou

Vagrant monosyllables

oves and war, though the course of true

gloves never did run smooth. No glove lost. // // We have nothing to

Vagrant monosyllables

clack click-clack. // // At night, the

glow and flying sparks. // // Grass on the lineside banks is marked /

e, // // and welcomed us back into its

glow . // // Another twenty one years, // // another crematorium. //

ers warm // // flames gone // // last

glow // // embers warm // // fading now // // last glow // // tiny

Landing light // // Under the door the

glow is peeking, // // feeling its way across the floor. // // From

now // // here to stay // // morning

glow // // time to rise // // feeling slow // // rub eyes // // ya

bers warm // // fading now // // last

glow // // tiny light // // fading now // // dark night // //

the embers beneath the ash were darkly

glowing , asking only // // a slight encouragement. As the day went o

rn. // // Now, on the glowing map, the

glowing // // blue dot reveals the now, and traces // // of past and

row on timber // // let it burn // //

glowing embers // // smoulder down // // let it burn // // warm as

timber // // sparks take flight // //

glowing embers // // throw on timber // // let it burn // // glowin

Or is it just the clarity of light, the

glowing // // grass and trees outside her window, warming // // in t

Cape Cod Morning

beyond the meadow, // // tall grasses

glowing in the morning sun // // below and to the right. And rising

Cape Cod Morning

when we should turn. // // Now, on the

glowing map, the glowing // // blue dot reveals the now, and traces /

// // The first boilers of iron plate

glue east // // Grow face fa-cai thick soup. // // XO sauce explodes

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

plywood strips // // carefully cut and

glued . And labelled the front— // // Nails: tacks, panel pins, ovals

/ // The good Lady Lumley is pondering

glumly . “I // // need a new project to keep me in trim— // // now t

Troubled waters

w its meaning has grown // // from the

glyph in the tail of sex // // to its role in the world as the well-k

The truth about x

ountryside, each tall bare trunk // //

gnarled and twisted by the wind, supports // // a wild, tufted crown—

needles. // // In the distance, // //

gnarled broadleaf trees with twisted limbs // // shed leaves with per

ourse // // but maybe also wailing and

gnashing our teeth // // into the maelstrom, the fire and brimstone /

January Nineteen Hundred and One

// // // I am transfixed as a horned

goat // // charges towards me // // from beyond the pale, under my g

Capricorn suite

the fight will be my wound. // // The

goat // // // I am transfixed as a horned goat // // charges toward

Capricorn suite

truthful— // // The eye of the little

god , four cornered. // // Something there is that doesn’t love a wall

All done with mirrors

/ But could they eat an offering to the

gods ? // // After the feast, perhaps they throw it out. // // Could

On offerings to the gods

On offerings to the

gods // // Homer, there’s something here that puzzles me. // // Liba

On offerings to the gods

Could they just dump an offering to the

gods , // // or leave it where it is to rot away? // // Imagine what

On offerings to the gods

can be // // as dumb as all of us, the

gods themselves. // //

hemselves // // Stupidity, I think the

gods themselves // // will find in all the books that line the shelve

away? // // Imagine what the vengeful

gods would say. // //

On offerings to the gods

// scutter, scavenge—redshank, // //

godwit , curlew—long // // beaks probing deep // // beneath the // /

is good // // for all. The redshanks,

godwits , curlews search // // for hidden treasure, long beaks buried

d is crowned mayor of London, he // //

goes by the rubrik of Boris the Mad. // // He’d adore such a grand an

Troubled waters

m? // // Now the one just ahead // //

goes head over heels // // on hard, unyielding // // rocks and stone

goes // // How and where does it all begin? // // From a spring. //

ng. // // Tell me, if you will, how it

goes . // // It flows. // // To find its end, where must it flee? //

Ever // // Tennison’s stream, we know,

goes on for ever, his // // poetry too to posterity speaks; // // Jo

ose recirculation keeps // // Finnegan

going (despite it’s his wake)— // // Beethoven’s music is just bloody

hers working rough. // // The light is

going now. // // How will these transient trials pass? // // It’s re

ves us ever onward. // // Where are we

going , so fierce and so fast? // // I know only the wind and the rain

ess, endless ocean. // // Where are we

going ? // // Something is changing: the ocean // // is bottomless no

an almighty bang // // —thought it was

going to be a disaster // // but then it began rolling out its own //

ate of the world // // —Hold on! It’s

going to be a rough ride. // // —Hold on! I’m not ready yet. // //

The state of the world

me now the truth about X. // // Is it

going to stay or to go? // // Is it really simple or quite complex? /

The truth about x

// // down to the floor, to prevent it

going walkabout, // // a perambulation whenever it got to the spin //

Good vibrations

// // carriages decked in the blue and

gold livery // // of the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons-Lits //

Peckham 1969—1991

// // and rock and air; no fire and no

gold , // // no gems nor coins nor jewels; just the old // // and wea

Daydream Dale Journey

// Does it mark the site of the hidden

gold // // on the secret island map? // // (Am I now getting warm or

The truth about x

rter. // // // // In the California

gold rush of 1849, and again in the Klondike in 1896, in order to make

Ode to the yeast wind

go. Let the browns // // and reds and

golds replace the greens. Now throw the canopy too // // to the winds

more. // // Where have all the duffles

gone ? // // Anoraks now, every one. // //

Donkeys don’t wear jackets

uld now appear // // as it did a month

gone , // // BC (Before Capricorn). // // But of course that is not s

Capricorn suite

// The possibility of peace is now long

gone . // // In just a few days’ time, these two will meet // // and

Capricorn suite

hes on // // spell broken // // sleep

gone // // in motion // // sun on skin // // door open // // breat

me, // // to creep back in when I have

gone . // // It’s time: my end has come. // //

roast // // embers warm // // flames

gone // // last glow // // embers warm // // fading now // // last

// live on long after his colours have

gone ; // // learning his lesson, the great Michelangelo // // makes

all, no glass. // // The light has all

gone , now. // //

“The Boris’s vanity project has // //

gone off the rails. I’m not such a mug. // // I’ve cancelled his bus

Troubled waters

oast // // warm as toast // // flames

gone // // potatoes roast // // embers warm // // flames gone // /

// // until the day, just nine months

gone , // // when both lines crossed an edge, // // and two seemed to

great, // // examples of the form both

good and poor // // I’ll help you find the words you’re looking for,

ces are said // // to be good. That’s

good // // enough, I suppose. // // Battle lines // // // // //

Capricorn suite

mpete for surface scraps. The beach is

good // // for all. The redshanks, godwits, curlews search // // fo

d blew them in again. // // Beards are

good for finger-fiddling // // stroking, tickling, searching in—but /

ad // // is bad in absolute, while the

good // // is good only in relation to the bad. // // The chances ar

Capricorn suite

// // // First the bad news, then the

good : // // it's cancer; but it hasn’t spread. // // No balance here

Capricorn suite

Troubled waters // // The

good Lady Lumley is pondering glumly. “I // // need a new project to

Troubled waters

extended // // coda to our past // //

good lives, the rainbow spans the sky. // //

Fibonacci series

ping us in darkness so // // cannot be

good . // // Nevertheless I draw the line // // at dropping onto Isaa

ght. Do not // // go gentle into that

good night. // // … and one true fib // // Here, // // now, // //

Fibonacci series

d in absolute, while the good // // is

good only in relation to the bad. // // The chances are said // // t

Capricorn suite

far away and long ago. // // A fairy,

good or bad, will know // // exactly when to show her face, // // th

The world just so

inal fray // // remains in memory, for

good or ill, // // another day. // // I cannot say // // whether I

ange. Some variant has found // // how

good sex is—to mix the genes around. // // The plants, the fish, the

something hard would turn to something

good // // some dormant thing would wake and sprout new growth. // /

/ // The chances are said // // to be

good . That’s good // // enough, I suppose. // // Battle lines // /

Capricorn suite

that // // revives, replenishes, makes

good // // the damaged present, this dark night? // // Not to return

Good vibrations // // The Bendix washing machine was already elderly

Good vibrations

n we parted, did we say // // our last

goodbyes , or maybe they // // just slipped away— // // I cannot say.

The dream I dreamt

d.) Sometimes at night, // // a heavy

goods train rattles the windows and plates // // on the shelves. Lat

Peckham 1969—1991

Foss. // // Upstream again to clamber

Gordale Scar // // and rest, and breathe some more the cool clear air

Daydream Dale Journey

// // take the hottest Currie. // //

Gordon Brown // // replaced his frown // // with a one-sided smile /

k-white was her skin. // // In Cheddar

Gorge the chaffinches // // were twittering. The twain // // with a

re, and it wasn’t just because we never

got around to it. // // On a New York subway: Judith and

Fragments of a life

// // a fib on // // achievement, but

got // // only a fib on a cheap pun // // … a swindle… // // [One i

Fibonacci series

out, // // a perambulation whenever it

got to the spin // // part of its washing cycle. The other, the nois

Good vibrations

// // (easier than his proper name of

Gouriet ) // // had come as a child sixty-odd years before // // (wel

Peckham 1969—1991

ow // // will sit and spin, so full of

grace , // // far away and long ago. // // A fairy, good or bad, will

The world just so

// She was once a lady’s maid // // In

gracious , towered Camelot. // // Then, as winds of fortune blow, //

The Lady’s Maid

oh lord // // take train // // rough

grain // // sharp blade // // shave again // // shine or rain // /

Countries // // Gelderland; Glabbeek;

Gramsbergen // // conurbations; drained land // // One to three hund

Boris the Mad. // // He’d adore such a

grand and flamboyant adventure—to // // jump on the bandwagon he’ll b

Troubled waters

s later, the year that her first // //

grandchild arrived? I can’t quite recall. Nor can I now // // pictu

Good vibrations

sary repairs // // for a generation of

grandchildren . // //

w: migrate south // // to London, two

grandchildren , // // and a world to explore. // // But within a few

Ninety-six and counting

growing from the clapboards, // // but

grander far, a corniced window bay // // in darker wood. Clear morni

Cape Cod Morning

nationale des Wagons-Lits // // et des

Grands Express Européens pass by. // // In the end, it was the railwa

Peckham 1969—1991

mile across the river meadows // // to

Grantchester . As we walk back // // against the wind it starts to sn

Walking in winter

y // // // The garlic slices the beef

granule . // // The first boilers of iron plate glue east // // Grow

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

s it merely the line at the foot of the

graph , // // so that y can now scale the heights? // // Relate to me

The truth about x

ughs bent to earth // // apples in the

grass // //

ross a great river, where // // trees,

grass and flowers can stretch shore to shore. // // Of bridges traver

Troubled waters

he clarity of light, the glowing // //

grass and trees outside her window, warming // // in the sun? Or may

Cape Cod Morning

e thud as one more apple hits the muddy

grass . // // East wind // // Winds bowling through trees // // frui

ght, the glow and flying sparks. // //

Grass on the lineside banks is marked // // with smears of fires, bur

calling // // to the edges of the sea-

grass —pauses, // // Breath the scents the sea-winds bring // // make

he moss, the lichen, // // the cropped

grass , the sheep- and rabbit-droppings, // // the bare rocks and the

The rain and the air

w, looks // // out into sunlight, over

grass , towards // // some distant point outside the picture frame. //

Cape Cod Morning

apple on the tree, the windfall in the

grass . // // What do they know, the rain and the air? // //

The rain and the air

wet bracken, wet moss, wet // // hardy

grasses , and sometimes, dimly in the mist, // // wet sheep. // // As

he trees beyond the meadow, // // tall

grasses glowing in the morning sun // // below and to the right. And

Cape Cod Morning

s and flowers, mosses, // // ferns and

grasses waving under the sky. // // Islands, beaches, clifftops, cree

imbed // // inside) mark out the sandy/

grassy bank that is // // the cliff. A narrow sandy beach past which

rival, // // was buried in an unmarked

grave . // // There were no victors: only victims. // //

Black September

Graves // // // // For Robert Graves, the naked and the nude // //

For Robert Graves

Robert Graves // // // // For Robert

Graves , the naked and the nude // // were chalk and cheese; so what w

For Robert Graves

The Lady’s Maid // // Under a

gray and lowering sky // // The fields that by the river lie // // A

The Lady’s Maid

The previous occupant, known as Mister

Gray , // // (easier than his proper name of Gouriet) // // had come

Peckham 1969—1991

r stay // // To gaze down on the ruins

gray // // That scar remote Shalott. // // In the duck-weed-smothere

The Lady’s Maid

sculpted edges. // // A bramble sends

great arcing shoots, // // strong curves lined with jagged thorns, //

engine, wheels bigger than me— // // a

great big monster, steaming, black. // // The bogeys go: click-clack

n, and isolation palls. // // One more

great change, one more new beginning: // // a different kind of home

Ninety-six and counting

around, // // another creature wakes;

great cogwheels grind. // // They peer, they scan, they scrape, they

Capricorn suite

ts. // // On one // // a stately ram,

great curved horns // // stands tense, alert and staring. A few //

South London standoff

fs of compacted mud. // // Evening. A

great dark cloud // // fire-edged, blots out the setting sun. // //

or // // to visit many poets small and

great , // // examples of the form both good and poor // // I’ll help

e gone; // // learning his lesson, the

great Michelangelo // // makes his work lasting by carving in stone—

es rise and fall // // and rise again.

Great populations press // // against their boundaries. The vital str

lly // // spring from the hands of the

great Praxiteles? // // I cannot now recall. // // No matter! Now,

/ to build a fine bridge clear across a

great river, where // // trees, grass and flowers can stretch shore t

Troubled waters

last year’s growth, // // looks like a

great sea-crag in miniature, // // a tumbling precipice of rock—or ma

// wrote poetry well, but // // was no

great shakes // // in the marriage stakes. // //

ships and sealing wax, // // and such

great themes as these, // // talking they walked and walking talked—

d blew them in again. // // Beards are

great when gales are threatening // // keep drafts out and comfort in

rince will boldly go // // and dangers

great will bravely face, // // the world just so. // // True love wi

The world just so

omain: // // the start, the lobby of a

Greek hotel // // in summer, where we met and all was well; // // th

e from the inside? // // See that blue-

green ball of stuff? // // —spinning around one of the hot yellow bit

ees. // // Feel the fire. Spread out a

green canopy // // in the warming sunlight. Soak up the rays and the

/ silver lake // // purple moor // //

green forest // // clear stream // // grey mountain // // jagged mo

ss by night, // // the ocean, the blue-

green -grey-black ocean, // // the bottomless, endless ocean. // // W

// Another tree, perhaps a beech, but

green // // (I think that I can see the nuts it sheds) // // on the

green ideas found sleeping furiously // // // The garlic slices the

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

bowling on, // // trees bending, dark

green leaves showing // // their lighter backs, a few edging // // t

f pebble-dunes protects // // a calmer

green oasis, band of salt-marsh // // where barn-owls hunt their prey

e. // // The run was already old, dark

green // // paint slowly decaying // // under the fingers of the six

se far above our heads. In this bright

green // // we wander, hacking out our paths, or creeping through, //

s // // and reds and golds replace the

greens . Now throw the canopy too // // to the winds, let it whirl awa

/ // loop lazily along and then // //

greet each pole like a jumping jack. // // The bogeys go: click-clac

/ the remains of trees // // that once

grew on the hill above, // // and bits of buildings, human artifacts.

Covehithe, Suffolk

man called Michael Finnegan. // // He

grew whiskers on his chin—but // // the wind came up and blew them in

night, // // the ocean, the blue-green-

grey -black ocean, // // the bottomless, endless ocean. // // Where a

you can see all the junk inside. // //

grey John Major // // surely had a wager // // that he could without

green forest // // clear stream // //

grey mountain // // jagged mountain // // choppy sea // // swirling

te, // // or autumn hues, or shades of

grey — // // the colours that I saw last night // // just slipped awa

The dream I dreamt

/ // across the criss-cross checks and

grids and patterned lattices of life // // through glasses, darkly. /

send me to bed. // // Just imagine the

grief // // and the consequence if // // it had been a pineapple ins

Newton’s counterfactuals

or confuse, // // elate or validate or

grieve — // // these words live. // //

If I can filter out the rest, the aural

grime , // // even I, atheist, find some of them sublime. // // Must

ning // // thought he’d flaunt a bushy

grin —but // // the wind came up and blew it in again. // // Beards m

another creature wakes; great cogwheels

grind . // // They peer, they scan, they scrape, they test, they sound

Capricorn suite

autonomy. // // Objective // // In my

groin and in my mind’s eye: // // A tube inside a tube inside a tube

Capricorn suite

lick, then it runs // // down the next

groove , finally // // dropping into the bottom tray. // // Of course

in at the top; // // it runs down the

groove // // into a hole in the post. // // A satisfying click, then

/ // A post at either end, // // five

grooved sloping rails, // // a tray at the base. // // You put the m

earful. // // To my left, the foraging

ground : a smooth bank of mud // // slopes up from the creek. On the

bending, boughs reaching // // for the

ground , creaking // // under the weight. // // Wander through the or

uses; yards; curbs // // One to fifty:

Ground floor // // Bedroom 2; Bathroom; Bicycle shed // // walls; do

Feel the water return // // to the dry

ground . Let the cooling dark // // settle around and about, under and

rdo // // cromarty, ringwold or savage

ground // // smoked trout, wevet, bone, calamine // // lichen, brinj

ll. Even in my sleep // // I hear the

ground -swell gently break and sift, // // pushing the shingle back an

// and clash — and I’m to be the battle

ground . // // The field is ready now, the lines are drawn. // // Whi

Capricorn suite

with jagged thorns, // // seeking new

ground to conquer. // // Spiders’ webs among the undergrowth. // //

I start to trickle back // // over wet

ground , under sky, // // from marsh just covered in the slack: // //

// a stealth invasion’s getting off the

ground . // // Up on the surface and for far around, // // another cr

Capricorn suite

// clear to my vantage point on higher

ground . // // Voices far across the valley sound. // // The hills ra

ound // // in bags or scattered on the

ground // // waiting to be found. // // Waiting for declension, conj

r twice-a-day migration between feeding

grounds // // in lop-sided vees and slanting lines, // // dark again

icon of // // a time and maybe social

group // // —and then, when that one died, one more. // // Where hav

Donkeys don’t wear jackets

s. Not quite the biggest // // of its

group , but very beautiful. // // What does it look like from the insi

street, shop-window-browsing. // // A

group , gathered around and gazing into // // one window; but one youn

t attack. // // Towards the river is a

group of firs // // —the kind you sometimes see in lines across // /

l additions. And it becomes a scene, a

group of people in evening dress, top hats and the like, appropriate t

Fragments of a life

imagination. // // It stands within a

grove of trees, a very few // // of which I can discern, even perhaps

an see the nuts it sheds) // // on the

grove’s outer edge, contains our own // // tree-house, a canted deck

so. // // True love will germinate and

grow , // // all tribulations to displace, // // far away and long ag

The world just so

// brake train // // it’s plain // //

grow beard // // brave again // // forsake train // //

// It pushes us harder, // // makes us

grow broader and taller, // // sweeps spray from our tops, // // dri

boilers of iron plate glue east // //

Grow face fa-cai thick soup. // // XO sauce explodes to grow the frag

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

rt. // // Tiptoe. // // Probe. // //

Grow . // // Push forward. // // Build speed. // // Build power. //

ftness grows // // but hardness cannot

grow . // // Rough softness is too big, // // leaves for another home

thick soup. // // XO sauce explodes to

grow the fragile bone. // // The peasant family stir-fries four // /

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

show me the way? // // Will it finally

grow to be too tall? // // Will it wilt or last all day? // // Does

The truth about x

Hebdo, I learn // // that something is

growing at the tail end of my colon: // // probably malignant. // //

Capricorn suite

flames leap // // flames creep // //

growing bright // // flames leap // // sparks take flight // // gro

// faint light // // bird sings // //

growing bright // // gadget pings // // go away // // sleep clings

s leap // // sparks take flight // //

growing bright // // throw on timber // // sparks take flight // //

wards the brown. // // Autumn fruit is

growing fat, // // trees bending, boughs reaching // // for the grou

clapboard side. // // At centre, as if

growing from the clapboards, // // but grander far, a corniced window

Cape Cod Morning

// Relate to me now how its meaning has

grown // // from the glyph in the tail of sex // // to its role in t

The truth about x

back door // // through box and holly

grown to full maturity // // to an iron-gated pointed arch // // pie

edgier, rougher. // // Rough softness

grows // // but hardness cannot grow. // // Rough softness is too bi

curls // // smoke billows // // smoke

grows // // eyes smart // // smoke billows // // move apart // //

elters inside hardness. // // Softness

grows , hardness grows too, // // spirals round itself, trumpet-like.

curls // // flame unfurls // // smoke

grows // // smoke curls // // smoke billows // // smoke grows // /

acks of the older ones. // // The wind

grows steady and purposeful. // // We form into rows and columns acro

Can this go on forever? // // Softness

grows still, fades away. // // Empty spiral hardness rests // // on

rdness. // // Softness grows, hardness

grows too, // // spirals round itself, trumpet-like. // // Can this

dormant thing would wake and sprout new

growth . // // And thus it was. Just past the London Eye, // // a br

// crested by the fuzz of last year’s

growth , // // looks like a great sea-crag in miniature, // // a tumb

Sharpness // // // The latest

growths are long and barbed, // // reaching out to colonise the heath

hiatus. // // But the fire bore us no

grudge , // // and welcomed us back into its glow. // // Another twen

e // // from beyond the pale, under my

guard , // // below the belt and over the line. // // What’s in a nam

Capricorn suite

e blows, the train moves on, // // the

guard’s van trundles at the back. // // The bogeys go: click-clack c

. At others, though, // // we have to

guess . // // The woods are full of streams, // // swollen with sprin

/ through these ideas he makes a worthy

guide ; // // his voice is lively, gestures wide. // // The sun and w

s; deserts // // One to five million:

Gulf of St Lawrence // // Shickshock Mountains; Shippegan Island; Cap

oyster-catcher, the egret, the gliding

gull . // // What do they know, the rain and the air? // // The hedge

The rain and the air

od, onto the beach. We hear // // the

gulls , and faintly, far away, the churn // // of waves upon the sand.

Wells in winter

// At water’s edge the oyster-catchers,

gulls // // compete for surface scraps. The beach is good // // for

he ridgetiles, the leaves in the leaded

gully . // // The street between the houses, the streetlight, // // t

The rain and the air

oft snow, up to the tops // // of your

gumboots . The mile or two // // to the village shop to seek supplies

Walking in winter

/ // war in Jordan. // // There was a

gun . // // There was a bullet, stray. // // There was a young man wr

Black September

ject to keep me in trim— // // now the

Gurkhas are happy—some shiny erection to // // burnish my halo. Ah,

Troubled waters

moored boat runs a wake: // // time to

gush full spate. // // Now my headlong dash abates— // // where I on

/ // Somewhere deep down in my abysmal

gut // // (well, really, just around the final bend) // // this crav

Capricorn suite

ttle. // // Oh, people spread! Quick,

guys , an ecstasy of fumbling, // // building the clumsy barriers just

shing // // Plan finances—get advisor?

G’s contact maybe // // Ring M about Xmas // // Ring Tony D about wo

Notes to a life

lops // // schizophrenia. // // After

G’s death, a chance // // for something new: migrate south // // to

Ninety-six and counting