Stephen Robertson

Slanting Lines

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

Carl Orf // // still at school // //
Aaron Copland and Kurt Weill // // in their cots // // William Walto
d.  // // Unused parts from finished or
abandoned projects, // // pieces half-constructed or half-deconstruct
e, along with // // all the other long-
abandoned projects.) // // This one started with an almighty bang //
k up the river Wharfe, // // to Bolton
Abbey , and the Strid beyond, // // and Barden Bridge—and now I flick
ild clouds across the sky, // // lying
abed beneath the cobwebbed rafters, // // warm and dry.  // // On wat
lind.  // // A storm is raging as I lie
abed , // // whipped wide awake by what the thunder said.  // // Rain
// An assault on my dignity.  // // An
abrogation of my autonomy.  // // Objective // // In my groin and in
er day // // to feel your ever-present
absence , still // // to find a way.  // // I hear you say, // // “Bu
balance here.  The bad // // is bad in
absolute , while the good // // is good only in relation to the bad.  /
ord // // No, the singularity is quite
absurd .  // // In the beginning there were many words: // // sitting,
ake train // // what a pain // // and
absurd // // slave again // // pull chain // // be bold // // brak
/ // // // Somewhere deep down in my
abysmal gut // // (well, really, just around the final bend) // // t
/ But rising gave me sight // // of an
acacia , a fence and many // // trees around the edges of a field.  //
Ever tried // // // // tried to
accept // // tried to climb // // tried to find // // tried to forg
No rage— // // just a sort of passive
acceptance .  // // Set against this, a certain toughness, // // hidde
Cape Cod Morning // // Almost
accidental , but carefully composed: // // the sky behind the trees be
on random patterns form—until // // an
accidental spiral sequence finds // // that it can make itself again,
rple sage to lie.  // // A Cheshire cat
accosted them, // // then walked his wild way // // alone.  In Swale
// // The tide begins its steady, slow
accretion // // Hear the marsh-birds calling // // in places it has
d undecorated, but with marks and signs
accumulated over a century and a bit.  There is an area about 2ft squa
’s // // soapy place.  // // So apply,
ace : // // scope a play // // apocalypse.  // //
// // to write // // a fib on // //
achievement , but got // // only a fib on a cheap pun // // … a swind
/ // dip our feet into water clear and
achingly cold, // // and dry them on warm rock.  // //
already elderly // // when my mother,
acquiring a newer model, donated // // the reject to us for our new h
a million years, // // it seems to be
acting // // not in its own best interests.  // // Too bad.  // // Po
through the double-starred list of the
actinoids // // ‡ by means of reactors or colliders or other toys //
and planets overhead // // as well as
actions close at hand // // (the apple said), // // to comprehend th
reated for the stage // // by the best
actors of the age.  // // Thank you for calling Shakespeareline.  // /
s if on the shoulders of its owner, but
actually empty. // // The sitting room of our house in Pec
a gear, and take a lurch // // at some
acute , unmeasured angle.  // // Last September, meeting you.  // // Th
ittle else arrayed?  // // I think he’d
add a note to his remark— // // in truth, how cheesy is the sometime
on— // // when the time comes, I might
add , not just yet.  // //
Voices, ipods, phones speak out— // //
add to the road’s cacophony.  // // Dialectic // // Voices coming fro
Voices, ipods, phones speak out— // //
add to the road’s cacophony.  // // Through air and ether people mutte
on wood- // // and metal-working vices
added to those // // caused by generations of kitchen knives.  // //
hape of things: // // the steps which,
added up, construct // // my life.  // // Most of the steps are small
t to pilfer // // the clusters beyond,
adding scratches // // to the stains already covering your fingers //
Need just a few more.  // // How about
adding space, time, love? // // … three fibs about fibs…  // // One,
sing a charcoal stick, makes some small
additions .  And it becomes a scene, a group of people in evening dress
om Japan whose verses never would scan,
adds an extra list.  // // As we* reach the sixth and seventh periods,
st fine.  // // But seven feet!  I must
admit that seems exceeding wide, // // as if to start out on a voyage
he rubrik of Boris the Mad.  // // He’d
adore such a grand and flamboyant adventure—to // // jump on the band
ign of the deep bay windows that // //
adorn most later London terraced fronts.  // // One of a block of four
ive me some wind to blow us away // //
Adrift the middle of the sea // // Way-hay, blow us away // // And t
he fish, the dinosaurs, the apes // //
advance across the generations.  Each // // sentient being touches and
a temporary home, until // // the next
adventure .  // // (One time, though, the hollow holds // // a real li
He’d adore such a grand and flamboyant
adventure —to // // jump on the bandwagon he’ll be glad.”  // // The B
// // Washing // // Plan finances—get
advisor ?  G’s contact maybe // // Ring M about Xmas // // Ring Tony D
e.  // // An owl, a leaping fish, a fox
afar — // // night-time noises permeate the air.  // // Someone snorin
// blitz on Sheffield.  // // In north
Africa , D is killed.  // // Later, one of the lodgers— // // Polish s
en of course it snows again.  // // One
afternoon for one brief hour // // the air is warm enough to melt //
ments, taken // // out of time.  // //
Afternoon in winter, on the ramparts // // looking seaward, sun behin
ge, circa 1966 // // One cold winter’s
afternoon // // we walk to the edge of town and on // // the mile ac
// a Beethoven string quartet.  // //
Afterwards Colin and I go down to the basement // // —the real cremat
night // // in the oven of the pre-war
Aga , they will emerge // // a startling deep red, and taste delicious
Beside it stands another of much later
age : // // a plastic chest with small, clear plastic drawers // // —
// We are not so far behind.  // // Old
age ain’t no place for sissies.  // // —Bette Davis // //
/ Not to return to old // // ways—that
age // // has passed.  What should // // we salvage from it, what bu
obvious culprit here, // // except for
age , pure and simple.  No rage— // // just a sort of passive acceptan
stage // // by the best actors of the
age .  // // Thank you for calling Shakespeareline. // // * pronounced
hs pregnant at the time.  A tiny middle-
aged New York woman, sitting on a bench seat, observes the situation,
just so, // // a pretty maiden, heart
aglow // // will sit and spin, so full of grace, // // far away and
ms almost horizontal; // // East Hills
aglow .  // // Winds moaning round the corners and the rooftops, // //
full of grace, // // far away and long
ago .  // // A fairy, good or bad, will know // // exactly when to sho
man sacrifice, // // far away and long
ago .  // // A handsome prince will boldly go // // and dangers great
// simply erase them.  // // Four years
ago a storm demolished // // the dunes on the beach across the creek
// —A fragment, formulated forty years
ago // // and filed in the middens of my mind.  // // And in my mind
It’s a level measured // // a century
ago and // // three hundred and forty miles // // to the south-west:
world just so // // Far away and long
ago , // // once upon a time and place, // // the world just so, //
// // that we bought some forty years
ago .  // // One of the legs had rotted half away.  // // But a new pie
onfess to having owned // // long long
ago , that icon of // // a time and maybe social group // // —and the
Long
ago // // The railway line passes near.  // // After the engine’s noi
s to displace, // // far away and long
ago , // // the world just so.  // //
tside.  // // (But that was forty years
ago // // —these days his hair is white all through.) // // ‘Every m
/ From the moment almost a half-century
ago // // when I first met your daughter // // I have known fragment
lerized.  // // Broken?  It must be, if
agony’s evidence.  // // Lying there wondering whether there’s any cha
had to call // // a halt to worry, and
agreed to sell // // for demolition, move to Camberwell.  // // (Two
ny erection to // // burnish my halo. 
Ah , I have a whim // // to build a fine bridge clear across a great r
No.  // // But which jacket yesterday? 
Ah , that one.  // // But no.  // // Table by door?  // // No.  // // K
es, // // dark against the sky.  // //
Ahead , another line, // // flat and sharp and natural too: // // pal
y, I catch glimpses // // of the ranks
ahead .  // // But mostly, I can see // // only the back // // of the
this cataclysm?  // // Now the one just
ahead // // goes head over heels // // on hard, unyielding // // ro
/ // And the noise.  // // A few ranks
ahead , I see them // // rearing up, up, turning over // // and hear
// // Derwent behind me and scrambles
ahead of me.  // // Out of the pastures and onto the fell side, still
hes and the sea.  The sun // // is low
ahead of us, the sky is clear.  // // Across the wood, onto the beach.
speed.  // // Build power.  // // Forge
ahead .  // // Spread.  // // Reach.  // // Slacken.  // // Settle.  //
e are not so far behind.  // // Old age
ain’t no place for sissies.  // // —Bette Davis // //
// What do they know, the rain and the
air ?  // //
re, // // leaving us the water and the
air .  // //
pipe heating up.  // // That breath of
air ?  A passing presence?  // // Don’t be silly, that’s just a draught
h and to and fro, // // in a flat calm
air .  A winter storm // // brings wild mountains of water crashing do
to the road’s cacophony.  // // Through
air and ether people mutter, shout, // // voices, ipods, phones speak
// High up above, at the edges of the
air // // and the beginning of space // // the sky is dark, but the
t, and breathe some more the cool clear
air .  // // Beyond the scree the open path leads on, // // a gentler
// The others too I love—Earth, Water,
Air —but Fire // // is something else again.  // // A memory // // (n
valley sound // // through still, warm
air , // // clear to my vantage point on higher ground.  // // Voices
/ to lie on the earth, // // smell the
air , // // feel the warmth of the fire, // // listen to the lapping
Periodical // // Earth,
air , // // fire and water: just the four— // // but the chemists ne
// Elemental fib…  // // Earth, // //
air , // // fire, // // and water.  // // Need just a few more.  // /
afternoon for one brief hour // // the
air is warm enough to melt // // the topmost layer.  The frost return
/ // along the open beach, in rich sea
air .  // // Look up, look up, my love—the sky is calling.  // // Dark
ater, sky and earth // // and rock and
air ; no fire and no gold, // // no gems nor coins nor jewels; just th
valley sound // // through still, warm
air .  // // On the top deck of a 68 // // Voices, ipods, phones speak
// // the spray rises a mile into the
air // // (or so it seems to me), to crash back down— // // you must
nd signal fires // // blazing into the
air .  // // Our space is the earth, // // time lives in fire, // //
ed in inky water, // // the cool night
air // // slows down time.  // // Now is the time // // to lie on th
— // // night-time noises permeate the
air .  // // Someone snoring in the tent next door, // // a motorcycle
// What do they know, the rain and the
air ?  // // The drystone wall slanting across the moor, // // the hea
// What do they know, the rain and the
air ?  // // The glistening mud left by the ebb-tide.  // // The moored
// What do they know, the rain and the
air ?  // // The hedgerow, the field, the rapeseed and the corn.  // //
// What do they know, the rain and the
air ?  // // The roof, the ridgetiles, the leaves in the leaded gully. 
ming sunlight.  Soak up the rays and the
air .  // // Transform the coloured flower into coloured flesh // // a
d hide a secret inside.  // // Feel the
air .  Turn in the four winds.  Broadcast the secret // // to earth, as
The rain and the
air // // // // What do they know, the rain and the air?  // // The
le.  // // Tony Blair // // floated on
air // // when Maggie’s encomium // // came to be known to ’im.  //
s // // Night-time noises permeate the
air // // with voices human, animal, machine.  // // An owl, a leapin
.  // // Night-time noises permeate the
air // // with voices human, animal, machine.  // // In hospital //
nted and timed.  // // Philosophies are
aired , // // temple columns spaced, // // lightning rods earthed.  //
s the waters // // blow the evanescent
airs // // moistening the many-coloured earths.  // // In forests and
// // On a galloping horse— // // But
Aix was as far as he went.  // // In Friday Market square // // Jacob
great curved horns // // stands tense,
alert and staring.  A few // // feet away, a sheep, cowering // // —
e know but little // // across so many
alien lands and seas // // some people have some nasty new disease.  /
ou, // // and could the last person to
alight please switch off the lights.  // // This departure has arrived
tive route which is // // known as the
Allerdale Ramble, traversing a // // difficult scree but then joining
k Parade; Pretoria Road // // streets;
alleys ; cycle paths // // One to two thousand:  Jesus College // // T
make my muse suggest // // just three
alliterative lines—at best // // a semi-stanza—and then to cease?  It
, makes everyone shuffle up in order to
allow Judith to sit down.  They obey her, all shapes and sizes of New
// so that the same period games // //
allow the lines to peter out // // and stop. // // † as we step thro
g explorers—a // // challenge I cannot
allow to go answerless.  // // Lone expedition to conquer the mountain
// were magnificent, but could not be
allowed // // to remain in occupation of that space.  // // And so, f
tail and flee // // as fast as breath
allows us, not to feel safe // // until inside the house.) // // The
g.  Gloves make the world go round, and
all’s fair in gloves and war, though the course of true gloves never d
jects.) // // This one started with an
almighty bang // // —thought it was going to be a disaster // // but
ow of your life!  // // From the moment
almost a half-century ago // // when I first met your daughter // //
Cape Cod Morning // //
Almost accidental, but carefully composed: // // the sky behind the t
billion random changes: all // // —or
almost all—are duds.  Nevertheless // // ten thousand different specie
hind us, low, // // yellow light-beams
almost horizontal; // // East Hills aglow.  // // Winds moaning round
/ slice alongside // // almost pole to
almost pole // // close as you can.  // // Apple, pear: // // pole-t
the stone // // slice alongside // //
almost pole to almost pole // // close as you can.  // // Apple, pear
// Small hour // // No voices in the
almost -silence that I hear, // // the soft subliminal sibilance of ni
lit, and fight.  // // No voices in the
almost -silence that I hear, // // the soft subliminal sibilance of ni
uage in my ear, // // no voices in the
almost -silence that I hear.  // // The words within my head, what do t
rought he forth; // // and at the end,
almost with dying breath, // // a swan-song, left behind for us to po
// // then walked his wild way // //
alone .  In Swale- and Wensleydale // // they passed the following day
Your snore // //
Alone in the dark of the night // // I would’ve turned on the light..
d some clipping, shortening // // left
alone they easily win—but // // there was an old man called Michael F
ee-junction, and a line of sight // //
along a tree-lined road into the distance.  // //
e of back gardens, full of trees // //
along a tree-lined road into the distance.  // // The first bedroom I
res through the pane // // loop lazily
along and then // // greet each pole like a jumping jack.  // // The
e verse form, you see, // // I can get
along just fine.  // // But seven feet!  I must admit that seems excee
moor.  // // The treasures to be found
along my path // // are elemental: water, sky and earth // // and ro
e stacked // // in increasing disorder
along the back // // of the bench, as far as the window.  // // Some
h to the Martello tower, // // we walk
along the banked-up track // // behind the wall, level with the top,
s // // come at an angle, sweep // //
along the beach.  Each // // finds its own reach up the foreshore, //
ason, some young man will wander // //
along the byways, thoughts tragic or tender— // // of love unfinished
he wood—the fir // // and silver birch
along the dunes that run // // between the marshes and the sea.  The
not only on, but of, // // sand.  All
along the foreshore, // // the remains of trees // // that once grew
s draining back towards the sea.  // //
Along the margins waders // // scutter, scavenge—redshank, // // god
ning back again towards the sea.  // //
Along the muddy margins, in the lee // // of the sea-wall, around the
on the sand.  Eastwards we turn, // //
along the open beach, in rich sea air.  // // Look up, look up, my lov
ant concrete blocks // // on piles all
along the shingle beach.  // // The mile south to the Martello tower,
will last forever.  // // At intervals
along the south horizon // // container ships in stately progress pas
ine’s noisy roar, // // coaches follow
along the track: // // the bogeys go: click-clack click-clack.  // /
e bits // // are somewhere back there,
along with // // all the other long-abandoned projects.) // // This
he flat sides of the stone // // slice
alongside // // almost pole to almost pole // // close as you can.  /
glad we did not meet // // before the
alotted time: // // that we could reach this perfect knot // // and
that even if my audience hear it spoken
aloud rather than seeing it on the page they will certainly know it.  /
g // // 2 forward: inspiration // //
Alpha , beta, gamma, delta.  // // The way is clear.  This formulation
we need to do is make connection // //
alpha to beta using this equation, // // then follow that suggestion
ench was once // // a kitchen dresser,
already ancient in // // the damp basement of the Peckham house // /
// (nineteen-sixty-one or so—my teens—
already // // between the end of the Chatterley ban // // and the Be
, adding scratches // // to the stains
already covering your fingers // // and your palms.  Sometimes you mu
s // // The Bendix washing machine was
already elderly // // when my mother, acquiring a newer model, donate
y feet.  // // No time, no time.  // //
Already I am toppling over him // // crashing, splitting, breaking.  /
all the while // // the crafty sea is
also digging down // // beneath the piles.  Then one stormy night //
sure to produce a fine plan.  // // We
also need money—of course private finance will // // jump to join in,
had forgotten // // that this equation
also needs some zeta factor // // and my clear beta, gamma, delta con
nd screaming of course // // but maybe
also wailing and gnashing our teeth // // into the maelstrom, the fir
the pinnacle.  // // Now to descend, an
alternative route which is // // known as the Allerdale Ramble, trave
ot far from land // // (Navigation was
always a difficult art, // // Though with only one ship and one bell.
ove the MAX level and ensure that it is
always above the MIN level. // // Only fill the kettle wit
s cracked // // And won’t be fixed and
always did refract // // The one before it into at least two.  // //
was an old Fellow of Girton // // who
always made love with his shirt on.  // // Saying “Now that I’m old, /
ill save electricity. // //
Always make sure that the lid is properly firmly closed. // //
ng melt.  But an old pine forest // //
always provides a bridge.  The trunks // // of fallen trees, fresh fr
// to take him to the house.  // // I
always regretted, felt cheated by // // that twenty-minute hiatus.  //
slides into the mist.  // // Morning is
always the morning.  // //
Morning // // // // Morning is
always the morning // // of an uncompleted day.  // // Not until ligh
e setting sun.  // // Later, the clouds
amass : // // watch now: if you blink you will miss // // the instant
wonderfully eccentric twentieth-century
American poet, // // Mr Ogden Nash, and carry on without much attenti
light, dimpse, mizzle, skylight // //
ammonite , mahogany, archive // // plummett // // Note:  Fifty colour
ground to conquer.  // // Spiders’ webs
among the undergrowth.  // // Look closely: precise angular spirals /
e spout as this will help to reduce the
amount of limescale that builds up on the filter. // // Th
up on the filter. // // The
amount of water can be measured by the level mark on the outside of th
// Only fill the kettle with the
amount of water you need as this will save electricity. // //
ad to the Kröller-Müller museum outside
Amsterdam .  The Hermitage in Leningrad in Soviet days.  Kettle’s Yard
// … a swindle…  // // [One iamb, two
anapest ] feet // // [make up an eight-syllable] beat.  // // Selec- /
choke // // eat me instead.  // // My
ancestor caused Eve to know // // more than Jehovah thought she shoul
als // // strung around precise radial
anchor lines.  // // Across the channel, tidal creeks // // meanderin
once // // a kitchen dresser, already
ancient in // // the damp basement of the Peckham house // // that w
pe // // towards the river.  A line of
ancient oaks // // (one blasted trunk is hollow through, and can be c
own // // tree-house, a canted deck of
ancient planks, // // nailed across two angled branches, reached //
ut wear or favour, fools rush in, where
angels wear to tread.  I’ll wear not what men say.  // //
lurch // // at some acute, unmeasured
angle .  // // Last September, meeting you.  // // The world looks diff
day.  So the breakers // // come at an
angle , sweep // // along the beach.  Each // // finds its own reach
ncient planks, // // nailed across two
angled branches, reached // // by clambering the branches by the trun
were twittering.  The twain // // with
anglo -saxon attitudes // // then to Caerphilly came.  // // They ling
mmediately in front.  // // The wind is
angry , howling and shrieking.  // // It pushes us harder, // // makes
ergrowth.  // // Look closely: precise
angular spirals // // strung around precise radial anchor lines.  //
meate the air // // with voices human,
animal , machine.  // // An owl, a leaping fish, a fox afar— // // nig
meate the air // // with voices human,
animal , machine.  // // In hospital // // Voices from the curtained b
send us on our way.  // // British Rail
announced that it would sink // // a hole to build the Channel Tunnel
side the door.  // // It really is very
annoying — // // I hope we don’t lose any more.  // // Three of our cu
Where have all the duffles gone?  // //
Anoraks now, every one.  // //
that.  // // There’s only one possible
answer : // // this cat-burglar’s Buster the cat.  // //
a // // challenge I cannot allow to go
answerless .  // // Lone expedition to conquer the mountaintop.  // //
Anticipation // // Yes, there will be more.  // // More hills, dales,
m the room next door: // // thesis and
antithesis , debate // // about it and about, and evermore // // voic
m the room next door:  // // Thesis and
Antithesis debate.  // // In the lecture room // // His voice is live
// No time // // for thesis // // or
antithesis .  // // Have to cut straight to synthesis.  // // Tried //
// // I could attract the attention of
anyone .  // // Haven’t passed walkers for more than three hours now.  /
// Wonder if I can get it to do // //
anything remotely interesting?  // //
s I wouldn’t have put them.  // // Move
anything they might be behind or under.  // // Look inside anything th
be behind or under.  // // Look inside
anything they might be in.  // // Turn the place upside down.  // // B
// P // // The fall is denied.  // //
Anyway , the cancer can be blamed // // for many things.  Hard to tell
Circle line // // Board
anywhere // //
has just joined // // the Société des
Apaches // // (or Bunch of Hooligans) // // later to enrol, when the
ces through the brain // // and splits
apart Edwardian disdain.  // // Man and drill are two, and now are one
smart // // smoke billows // // move
apart // // eyes smart // // flames creep // // move apart // // f
s smart // // flames creep // // move
apart // // flames leap // // flames creep // // growing bright //
ay pop case // // plea as copy.  // //
Ape calypso // // place, so pay // // a cosy Apple // // app, coy s
he plants, the fish, the dinosaurs, the
apes // // advance across the generations.  Each // // sentient being
line // // in something approaching or
aping the style of that wonderfully eccentric twentieth-century Americ
apply, ace: // // scope a play // //
apocalypse .  // //
. // // (not the Pirates of Penzance –
apologies to WSG) // //
lace, so pay // // a cosy Apple // //
app , coy sale.  // // Aye, cops lap // // a clay pope’s // // soapy
in the corner?  The hem of an emerging
apparition ?  // // Don’t be silly, that’s … omigod, it’s a cockroach! 
looks clear.  // // So life should now
appear // // as it did a month gone, // // BC (Before Capricorn).  //
ypso // // place, so pay // // a cosy
Apple // // app, coy sale.  // // Aye, cops lap // // a clay pope’s
r through the orchard, watch // // the
apple clusters sway, // // the clouds scud past, // // maybe catch /
.  // // But no, for once // // cut an
apple // // equatorially // // see its secret: // // the apple is a
// have forever been lost // // if the
apple had chosen a dunce.  // // // // There remains a small bruise
r far away, // // the thud as one more
apple hits the muddy grass.  // // East wind // // Winds bowling thro
ially // // see its secret: // // the
apple is a five-pointed fruit.  // //
led paddock and the orchard, // // the
apple on the tree, the windfall in the grass.  // // What do they know
st pole // // close as you can.  // //
Apple , pear: // // pole-to-pole // // in half then quarters // // c
er // // for tomorrow’s blackberry-and-
apple pie // // —the ones you ate straight off the bush are saved for
His inspiration is not mine // // (the
apple said).  // //
The
apple said // // // // Of course we’d like to understand // // the
ll as actions close at hand // // (the
apple said), // // to comprehend the universe // // both in the larg
t with them, nor comfort me // // with
apples , for I am well of love.  // // The usual translation is not rai
fruit-laden boughs bent to earth // //
apples in the grass // //
flagons, for I am well of love.  // //
Apples may perhaps be comforting // // as any fruit, though Suliman’s
t food.  But comfort me not // // with
apples , nor with pilaf.  I can’t speak // // for Suliman, but I am we
the kettle, switch it on again.  If the
appliance has just switched off you may have to wait a few minutes bef
ay pope’s // // soapy place.  // // So
apply , ace: // // scope a play // // apocalypse.  // //
k L’s dob—70 next b/day?  // // Dentist
appointment —week of 10th // // Write poem for Weds // //
rence.  Walking in the drizzle the long
approach road to the Kröller-Müller museum outside Amsterdam.  The Her
, standing up and hissing // // at our
approach .  We turn tail and flee // // as fast as breath allows us, n
and write each line // // in something
approaching or aping the style of that wonderfully eccentric twentieth
n evening dress, top hats and the like,
appropriate to some earlier era of the house’s existence.  We left the
or maybe Christmas cake, // // or more
appropriately , Suliman’s pilaf.  // // But stay me not with them, nor
from consideration // // and making an
approximate relation // // by tying beta up with mu and lambda.  // /
aturity // // to an iron-gated pointed
arch // // piercing the wall, built like the house // // of weathere
or half-deconstructed, // // for some
architectural or mechanical purpose // // now half-forgotten.  Electr
le, skylight // // ammonite, mahogany,
archive // // plummett // // Note:  Fifty colours of Farrow & Ball /
ted edges.  // // A bramble sends great
arcing shoots, // // strong curves lined with jagged thorns, // // s
over a century and a bit.  There is an
area about 2ft square of brush marks in a darker paint, made by a hous
own the hatches // // closing down the
argument // // shutting down the computer // // tearing down the bar
Fire // // My sign is
Aries .  Though it seems a poor // // fit for me, it is at least a Fir
our time on wild boar’s head.  // // If
Aristotle makes you choke // // eat me instead.  // // My ancestor ca
backwaters // // of the western spiral
arm (which will never be fashionable).  // // See the slime on it?  //
L-shaped the house; enclosed within its
arms // // a walled garden, left untended // // for maybe thirty yea
r place, a colder clime, // // with no
arms , one leg, no tail, but raised high, // // and head thrown back,
as winds of fortune blow, // // It was
arranged that she should go // // And take her place in service to //
y // // When, gleaming in his knight’s
array // // And gaily singing on his way // // Rode bold Sir Lancelo
// // in birthday suit and little else
arrayed ?  // // I think he’d add a note to his remark— // // in truth
: // // had died three hours after his
arrival , // // was buried in an unmarked grave.  // // There were no
e year that her first // // grandchild
arrived ?  I can’t quite recall.  Nor can I now // // picture it clear
rtainly long before // // the children
arrived ) I divided each drawer // // into four or more sections, with
f the lights.  // // This departure has
arrived .  // // The locomotive will desist from locomotion, // // thi
F.B.L // // london clay, blackened,
arsenic // // railings, pointing, down pipe, clunch, setting plaster
t it felt right. // // Many
art galleries in many places.  Three solid days in the Uffizi in Flore
/ // I’d paint it for you if I had the
art , // // Or maybe I should write it in a verse.  // // But now the
// (Navigation was always a difficult
art , // // Though with only one ship and one bell.) // // we there d
/ // I’d paint it for you if I had the
art // // To you, this is a dream in which I’m caught // // Which, c
n Friday Market square // // Jacob van
Artevelde makes an expansive gesture // // towards the setting sun.  /
ve, // // and bits of buildings, human
artifacts .  // // Geological time // // is foreshortened.  This is no
it.  // // I go to work.  // // Judith,
artist , // // models in clay or plaster, // // casts in plaster or c
eaming, lost in reverie.  // // And the
artist who is showing us the scene // // —does he know what it is she
r hands).  She introduced me to so many
artists .  As I have visited other places, I have found other treasures
nd decay.  In forgotten corners, // //
artists create and sometimes destroy.  Did I really // // spring from
destroy // // so many poets and other
artists // // which will drag us // // kicking and screaming of cour
f change?  // // Well, yes.  In all the
arts // // currents criss-cross, revolutions // // blossom and fade,
Middle East // // Bam Posht; Badiyat
ash Sham; Bisharin // // railways; borders; deserts // // One to fiv
every day // // the embers beneath the
ash were darkly glowing, asking only // // a slight encouragement.  A
/ funeral pyres.) Later we scatter the
ashes // // in a wild part of the old South London cemetery.  // // P
ht badly short // // I’ll just have to
ask ‘Where d’you pee?’  // //
we counter-attack?  // // Perhaps if we
asked him politely // // he’d remorsefully put them all back.  // //
rs beneath the ash were darkly glowing,
asking only // // a slight encouragement.  As the day went on, // //
e life is there.  // // Each new doctor
asks the same once more, // // voices from the curtained bed next doo
Wake // // Fast
asleep // // dark night // // dream deep // // faint light // // b
// An invasion of my privacy.  // // An
assault on my dignity.  // // An abrogation of my autonomy.  // // Obj
onnotations.  // // Roget charted their
associations .  // // Zipf was counting their instantiations, // // ra
want // // to kill me.  // // Like the
asteroid // // barrelling onwards, to wipe us out in // // ten or a
erry-and-apple pie // // —the ones you
ate straight off the bush are saved forever).  // // At the end of sum
.  // // December sounds // // Even I,
atheist , find some of them sublime— // // Britten’s Ceremony or the o
l banality which stings.  // // Even I,
atheist , find some of them sublime, // // Britten’s Ceremony or the o
e rest, the aural grime, // // even I,
atheist , find some of them sublime.  // // Must just ignore the shop-c
tected in pouches around their necks or
attached to their belts.  // //
are missing.  // // How can we counter-
attack ?  // // Perhaps if we asked him politely // // he’d remorseful
ready // // to defend against the next
attack .  // // Towards the river is a group of firs // // —the kind y
that mirror there— // // Who can that
attactive girl be?  // // I have heard the mermaids singing, each to e
// // Walking down quickly, not paying
attention , I // // stumble, fall heavily forward and land with my //
s any chance // // I could attract the
attention of anyone.  // // Haven’t passed walkers for more than three
r Ogden Nash, and carry on without much
attention to metre, until I can mark its end with such a strong and ob
yed, // // each model posed in languid
attitude , // // in birthday suit and little else arrayed?  // // I th
ing.  The twain // // with anglo-saxon
attitudes // // then to Caerphilly came.  // // They lingered long in
ether there’s any chance // // I could
attract the attention of anyone.  // // Haven’t passed walkers for mor
nd obvious rhyme // // that even if my
audience hear it spoken aloud rather than seeing it on the page they w
/ // If I can filter out the rest, the
aural grime, // // even I, atheist, find some of them sublime.  // //
e path // // in any season.  // // The
author , he whose life the fates would squander— // // such richness i
water boils the kettle will switch off
automatically .  The kettle can be switched off manually by putting the
my dignity.  // // An abrogation of my
autonomy .  // // Objective // // In my groin and in my mind’s eye:  //
edging // // towards the brown.  // //
Autumn fruit is growing fat, // // trees bending, boughs reaching //
w-bright, or black and white, // // or
autumn hues, or shades of grey— // // the colours that I saw last nig
the first mists // // or wild winds of
autumn , on the wild Suffolk heath, // // the wild Suffolk blackberrie
Wind, fall // // West wind // //
Autumn wind is bowling on, // // trees bending, dark green leaves sho
g torrent, // // get rolled over by an
avalanche , // // fall through a wormhole, or cross a mountain range? 
as I shipwrecked?  Or cast overboard to
avert shipwreck?  // // I cannot now recall.  // // Generations and ge
ially: // // no pips, no stone.  // //
Avocado : // // pole-to-pole // // all around the stone // // twist
// other morphologic variations, // //
awaiting Dr Johnson’s ministrations, // // waiting to discover their
ndow with the wind.  // // Whipped wide
awake by what the thunder said, // // flashes silhouette the trees ag
at the thunder said // // Whipped wide
awake by what the thunder said // // flashes silhouette the trees aga
ging as I lie abed, // // whipped wide
awake by what the thunder said.  // // Rain rattles on the rooftiles o
has in store.  // // Whether I’m lying
awake or sleeping // // or floating half in half out, I’m sure // //
cosy Apple // // app, coy sale.  // //
Aye , cops lap // // a clay pope’s // // soapy place.  // // So apply