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

P

falls, // // no drink involved. // //

P // // The fall is denied. // // Anyway, the cancer can be blamed /

// buy-in from business is not keeping

pace ) // // —but Sadiq the Most Evil deposes poor Boris, and // // g

Troubled waters

nd soft mudflats: // // time to gather

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

down // // One to forty-five million:

Pacific Ocean // // Marianas Trench, Macquarie Ridge, Mendocino Seasc

/ Papered bedsit. Send a letter. // //

Pad of paper, ballpoint pen. // // Find a stamp, street-corner box. /

as smooth as satin, // // drifting or

paddling gently side by side, // // through clear and cool and quiet

Recorded syllables

k on the tarmac road. // // The walled

paddock and the orchard, // // the apple on the tree, the windfall in

The rain and the air

asion at least // // to hold the front

page // // along with the rest of that // // ink-spattered fragment

rface combinations. // // Now Brin and

Page build index tabulations // // of all the words their spiders’ cr

// // They used to say “hold the front

page ” // // but the front page // // is no longer the way we find ou

ld the front page” // // but the front

page // // is no longer the way we find out // // what’s happening i

oken aloud rather than seeing it on the

page they will certainly know it. // //

m bored // // take train // // what a

pain // // and absurd // // slave again // // pull chain // // be

// away from you, in those last days of

pain , // // another summer, home in Camberwell. // // Between the en

a rescuer? // // Slowly I realise the

pain is subsiding, the // // leg was not broken, and after a while I

r. // // Irritation. Nuisance. // //

Pain ? no, not really. // // Objective // // Yellow liquid flows. //

Capricorn suite

to know? // // Is it written in spray-

paint all over the wall, // // in order to show me the way? // // Wi

The truth about x

// // distemper from ceilings, // //

paint from woodwork, // // lino from floors. // // (Under the lino,

n, will surely quickly pass. // // I’d

paint it for you if I had the art, // // Or maybe I should write it i

and, this country I must go— // // I’d

paint it for you if I had the art // // To you, this is a dream in wh

t 2ft square of brush marks in a darker

paint , made by a house-painter cleaning his brush after painting some

Fragments of a life

run was already old, dark green // //

paint slowly decaying // // under the fingers of the six of us. // /

rising left // // the Cape Cod house’s

painted clapboard side. // // At centre, as if growing from the clapb

Cape Cod Morning

the sign on the post, // // the white-

painted sign spreadeagled on the road. // // What do they know, the r

The rain and the air

// // Yes. // // “Then why hasn’t she

painted // // the walls?” // // Fair question. // //

arks in a darker paint, made by a house-

painter cleaning his brush after painting some woodwork. Judith sees

Fragments of a life

she says to her dad // // “Judith is a

painter , isn’t she?” // // Yes. // // “Then why hasn’t she painted /

he not want // // to tell? // // This

painting has a private life. // //

Cape Cod Morning

house-painter cleaning his brush after

painting some woodwork. Judith sees something in the shapes, and usin

Fragments of a life

ws in pencil or pen or charcoal, // //

paints in oils on hardboard. // // — // // 1973. Six-year-old Emily

ce only. As Judith had broken in a new

pair of boots, we buried the old pair somewhere on one of the passes h

Fragments of a life

s // // and connecting leads. Another

pair // // of brackets, this time for a wooden curtain pole, // // t

otten. Electrical components. // // A

pair of cast-iron supports for an old // // high-level lavatory ciste

a new pair of boots, we buried the old

pair somewhere on one of the passes high above Borrowdale in what was

Fragments of a life

loppy sea // // Lose pay cap, // // O

palace spy. // // Lay pop case // // plea as copy. // // Ape calyps

flat and sharp and natural too: // //

pale sky encounters dark sea. // // On the sand, a scattering of razo

arges towards me // // from beyond the

pale , under my guard, // // below the belt and over the line. // //

Capricorn suite

uous, // // legs weaken, and isolation

palls . // // One more great change, one more new beginning: // // a

Ninety-six and counting

y covering your fingers // // and your

palms . Sometimes you must stop // // to disentangle a particularly t

ack. // // Telephone wires through the

pane // // loop lazily along and then // // greet each pole like a j

n the splinters of the shattered window

pane . // // There was an overcrowded hospital. // // There were the

Black September

abelled the front— // // Nails: tacks,

panel pins, ovals and round; // // Screws: small, size 6, size 8, lar

// // leave the pith and pips. // //

Papaya , melon: // // pole-to-pole // // scoop out the mushy core. //

ed bedsit. Send a letter. // // Pad of

paper , ballpoint pen. // // Find a stamp, street-corner box. // // I

parlour. Send a letter. // // Scented

paper , dip-pen, ink. // // Branch post office, penny stamp. // // I

hole hog, the full nine yards: turn the

paper onto its side and write each line // // in something approachin

penny stamp. // // I love you. // //

Papered bedsit. Send a letter. // // Pad of paper, ballpoint pen. //

Flowing Nile. Send a letter. // // New

papyrus , brush and ink. // // Command a messenger. // // I love you.

sand: Cambridge // // Petty Cury; Park

Parade ; Pretoria Road // // streets; alleys; cycle paths // // One t

// // flies into the night. // // The

paraffin stove // // casts patterns of light on the // // high bedro

Light and shadow

Parallel lines // // As you stare down the line till you squint // /

Parcel // // Not distance but weight—that’s how they decide // // wh

raughty hall. Now send a letter. // //

Parchment , new quill pen, and ink. // // Employ a messenger. // // I

/ // later to enrol, when they come to

Paris // // Manuel de Falla and Igor Stravinsky. // // A turn, a per

January Nineteen Hundred and One

ole, quite big enough to eat // // the

park and all the houses down the street. // // We joined the local pr

Peckham 1969—1991

rld war). // // Fifty yards across the

park at the back // // a low embankment carries the railway track. //

Peckham 1969—1991

thousand: Cambridge // // Petty Cury;

Park Parade; Pretoria Road // // streets; alleys; cycle paths // //

er. // // I love you. // // Curtained

parlour . Send a letter. // // Scented paper, dip-pen, ink. // // Bra

attle too and shake // // our sense of

part and whole, netsuke-like. // // Bird and fish are two, and now ar

Sculpting the vortex

shop. // // A young rambler, you take

part // // in the mass trespass on Kinderscout. // // Meet a dashing

Ninety-six and counting

tion whenever it got to the spin // //

part of its washing cycle. The other, the noise // // that it made a

Good vibrations

back out to reconnoitre // // another

part of the bush. Take care not to spill // // your precious hoard (

r we scatter the ashes // // in a wild

part of the old South London cemetery. // // Perhaps I should plant /

We left the room unpainted for the best

part of the 22 years we lived there, and it wasn’t just because we nev

Fragments of a life

// // I cannot say. // // And when we

parted , did we say // // our last goodbyes, or maybe they // // just

The dream I dreamt

s you must stop // // to disentangle a

particularly tenacious tendril // // before you can back out to recon

tained and unconstrained. // // Unused

parts from finished or abandoned projects, // // pieces half-construc

problem out and then reveals // // the

parts of a solution. // // All we need to do is make connection // /

en are they likely to send out a search

party ? // // Probably not until well after dark has come. // // Shou

ome miles are ten, while others swiftly

pass . // //

Walking in winter

// // et des Grands Express Européens

pass by. // // In the end, it was the railway // // that contrived t

Peckham 1969—1991

// container ships in stately progress

pass // // destined for Harwich or for Felixstowe. // //

// // How will these transient trials

pass ? // // It’s really hard to know. // // We have no crystal ball,

ich, come the dawn, will surely quickly

pass . // // I’d paint it for you if I had the art, // // Or maybe I

/ // wind blows and dies // // clouds

pass or stay // // in changing skies // // the sun will rise // //

But now the dawn has come, it does not

pass , // // this figment of my own imagination. // // Maybe I should

Is it enormous or small? // // Does it

pass through all the standard checks? // // Will it rise or rapidly f

The truth about x

/ // just slipped away. // // Through

passages or corridors // // light-footed did I make my way? // // Ac

The dream I dreamt

light is fading // // has the interval

passed by. // // An uncompleted day // // is not yet to be fixed— //

// // Later still, after the storm has

passed // // lie back on the wet beach // // and watch the stars eme

In Swale- and Wensleydale // // they

passed the following day. // // Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, /

de bold Sir Lancelot. // // Years have

passed . The winter’s chill // // Lies fast upon the land so ill. //

The Lady’s Maid

the attention of anyone. // // Haven’t

passed walkers for more than three hours now. // // When are they lik

to old // // ways—that age // // has

passed . What should // // we salvage from it, what burn, // // what

ed the old pair somewhere on one of the

passes high above Borrowdale in what was then still Westmorland. It w

Fragments of a life

Long ago // // The railway line

passes near. // // After the engine’s noisy roar, // // coaches foll

iss // // the instant jagged challenge

passing between them // // or down to earth. // // Seconds later, ov

t to be fixed— // // but each interval

passing by // // may be notched on a stick. // // Not yet to be fixe

fe-lines must have crossed, // // some

passing chance of might-have-been, // // a different stitch to cast?

olts // // more days of sun or rain or

passing cloud // // more meetings with old friends // // more talks,

ise and fall // // a little later each

passing day. // //

ating up. // // That breath of air? A

passing presence? // // Don’t be silly, that’s just a draught from th

the raging fire // // of the sun marks

passing time. // // Far down below, the earth // // is mostly water.

member: // // they can be consigned to

passing time. // // For all the real and everlasting moments, // //

Recorded syllables

Passing time // // under changing skies // // day by day // // time

simple. No rage— // // just a sort of

passive acceptance. // // Set against this, a certain toughness, //

t reveals the now, and traces // // of

past and future both. // //

this // // extended // // coda to our

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

Fibonacci series

e hour // // for soft pussy-footing is

past . // // It can’t be a student or fellow— // // the thief’s much

One of our cushions

e clusters sway, // // the clouds scud

past , // // maybe catch // // close enough to make you jump, or far

/ // It’s a level that the tide rushes

past // // on its way up and again // // on its way down. // // It’

w growth. // // And thus it was. Just

past the London Eye, // // a bright September day, the river’s edge,

// the back of your hand as you reach

past to pilfer // // the clusters beyond, adding scratches // // to

d unroll behind, // // laying down the

past — // // until the day, just nine months gone, // // when both li

// igloo-tent-cocoon, both future and

past // // veiled, invisible, lost in the mist. // // Forty-some yea

// // the cliff. A narrow sandy beach

past which // // the falling tide reveals the deep black mud // // w

ar from cheering: // // that while the

past // // will last and last, // // the future is fast disappearing

crambles ahead of me. // // Out of the

pastures and onto the fell side, still // // climbing the contours an

n the river, // // Tending her cabbage

patch forever, // // The hermit of Shalott. // //

The Lady’s Maid

-quarter length, or maybe short, // //

patch pockets (useless for cold hands), // // thick felted wool, a mo

Donkeys don’t wear jackets

// // so the doctor finds something to

patch ? // // Will it find I’ve a yen to make audiences laugh, // //

The truth about x

rom Ilkley’s old stone bridge I trace a

path // // against the stream, back up the river Wharfe, // // to Bo

Daydream Dale Journey

// The treasures to be found along my

path // // are elemental: water, sky and earth // // and rock and ai

Daydream Dale Journey

Wells in winter // // We take the

path beside the wood—the fir // // and silver birch along the dunes t

Wells in winter

t. // // But what is this small beaten

path // // Between two beds of clean-raked earth // // Where tender

The Lady’s Maid

// set into wet turf. // // Beside the

path , every so often, // // a wet standing stone. // // To the sides

// Sorrow, longing, dreams pervade the

path // // in any season. // // The author, he whose life the fates

rs ago, when I first walked // // this

path , it would have been // // a little scary—no sense // // of wher

// for maybe thirty years. A winding

path // // leads from the glazed back door // // through box and hol

r air. // // Beyond the scree the open

path leads on, // // a gentler walk, to bare bleak Malham Tarn. // /

Daydream Dale Journey

t protrudes from the // // edge of the

path , not yet blunted or bowdlerized. // // Broken? It must be, if a

// the moor is gently undulating, the

path // // well-marked, flat wet stones // // set into wet turf. //

scree but then joining an easier // //

path with spectacular views over Bassenthwaite. // // Walking down qu

oria Road // // streets; alleys; cycle

paths // // One to two thousand: Jesus College // // The Chimney; Cr

green // // we wander, hacking out our

paths , or creeping through, // // maybe chancing on a hidden hollow w

each new beginning // // reiterates a

pattern // // as old as the hills // // each iteration // // shifts

ss the criss-cross checks and grids and

patterned lattices of life // // through glasses, darkly. // // —A f

primeval winds // // a billion random

patterns form—until // // an accidental spiral sequence finds // //

by rail come back // // to my memory,

patterns of clickety-clack. // // But that was then. Now the rail jo

A poem for free

// // The paraffin stove // // casts

patterns of light on the // // high bedroom ceiling. // //

Light and shadow

we were young and all, // // the woven

patterns traced and covered // // the world with skeins of wool. //

s death, // // the trout that dart and

pause and flicker under // // the bubbling brooks, that chatter and m

rambled way // // And fewer still will

pause or stay // // To gaze down on the ruins gray // // That scar r

The Lady’s Maid

. // // Slacken. // // Settle. // //

Pause . // // Repeat twice daily. // // (Not by the sun // // —use m

. // // Slacken. // // Settle. // //

Pause . // // Start. // // Tiptoe. // // Retrace. // // Shrink. //

ng // // to the edges of the sea-grass—

pauses , // // Breath the scents the sea-winds bring // // makes anot

h plate-glass windows // // across the

pavement . // // A bartender bent to work; // // chrome coffee machin

in // // a bend on a bigger road. The

pavements // // curl around, leaving two small raised triangles // /

South London standoff

py. // // Ape calypso // // place, so

pay // // a cosy Apple // // app, coy sale. // // Aye, cops lap //

A cloppy sea // // Lose

pay cap, // // O palace spy. // // Lay pop case // // plea as copy.

’ve cancelled his buses, no more will I

pay for—and // // now on the bridge I am pulling the plug.” // //

Troubled waters

C—book? // // Coat to cleaners // //

Pay newsagent // // Bulbs for kitchen lights—CS 60W screw???—check fi

Notes to a life

waite. // // Walking down quickly, not

paying attention, I // // stumble, fall heavily forward and land with

Was I carried for trade? // // Or in

payment of taxes? Or was I a trophy of war? // // I cannot now recal

at they find. // // The possibility of

peace is now long gone. // // In just a few days’ time, these two wil

Capricorn suite

tender— // // of love unfinished or of

peaceful earth, // // the mill-girl’s beauty or the maiden’s death, /

// Who is this now, who dares me eat a

peach ? // // Time’s warring chariots can clatter by— // // we have t

// // close as you can. // // Apple,

pear : // // pole-to-pole // // in half then quarters // // cut the

per beech // // stands out, a clump of

pears whose fruit // // is hard as stone. (But when stewed overnight

es to grow the fragile bone. // // The

peasant family stir-fries four // // Butterfish cooked to no sauce. /

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

rts // // redrawn). // // The line of

pebble -dunes protects // // a calmer green oasis, band of salt-marsh

ient in // // the damp basement of the

Peckham house // // that we bought some forty years ago. // // One o

Peckham 1969—1991 // // Of eighteen sixty vintage, the house is flat

Peckham 1969—1991

The sitting room of our house in

Peckham , the walls stripped and undecorated, but with marks and signs

Fragments of a life

// I’ll just have to ask ‘Where d’you

pee ?’ // //

This may be the end

light // // Under the door the glow is

peeking , // // feeling its way across the floor. // // From the lamp

kes; great cogwheels grind. // // They

peer , they scan, they scrape, they test, they sound; // // they write

Capricorn suite

ack, mole’s or elephant’s breath // //

peignoir , charlotte’s locks, nancy’s blushes // // drop cloth, slippe

, citron, calluna // // brassica, hay,

pelt , dove tale, pigeon // // mouse’s back, mole’s or elephant’s brea

d a letter. // // Parchment, new quill

pen , and ink. // // Employ a messenger. // // I love you. // // Cur

letter. // // Pad of paper, ballpoint

pen . // // Find a stamp, street-corner box. // // I love you. // //

end a letter. // // Scented paper, dip-

pen , ink. // // Branch post office, penny stamp. // // I love you. /

ent or resin, // // draws in pencil or

pen or charcoal, // // paints in oils on hardboard. // // — // // 1

ter or cement or resin, // // draws in

pencil or pen or charcoal, // // paints in oils on hardboard. // //

small coins. // // Must get rid of the

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

not yet decipherable, // // orange and

penny . // // Brandy, a candle: // // heat till it catches fire, //

Light and shadow

ip-pen, ink. // // Branch post office,

penny stamp. // // I love you. // // Papered bedsit. Send a letter.

? Or maybe nothing—maybe she // // is

pensive , dreaming, lost in reverie. // // And the artist who is showi

Cape Cod Morning

domesticity. // // (not the Pirates of

Penzance – apologies to WSG) // //

kylark’s trill; // // No longer do the

people fill // // The wharfs and ways of Camelot. // // Only one rem

The Lady’s Maid

es. // // (I completely understand why

people have // // funeral pyres.) Later we scatter the ashes // //

o many alien lands and seas // // some

people have some nasty new disease. // // They seem to want our help,

hat inspired it: a scattering // // of

people in a city street, shop-window-browsing. // // A group, gathere

ns. And it becomes a scene, a group of

people in evening dress, top hats and the like, appropriate to some ea

Fragments of a life

the river’s edge, // // with crowds of

people milling all around, // // walking and talking and standing sti

cacophony. // // Through air and ether

people mutter, shout, // // voices, ipods, phones speak out. // // S

hunters hovering under the sky. // //

People , people round the world—and I, // // roaming, rambling, drifti

hovering under the sky. // // People,

people round the world—and I, // // roaming, rambling, drifting under

of city station, noisy, full // // of

people rushing there and back. // // The bogeys go: click-clack clic

offee machines. // // At the bar three

people sit // // all six eyes lowered // // in silent contemplation.

snot and sweat and spittle. // // Oh,

people spread! Quick, guys, an ecstasy of fumbling, // // building t

ipods, phones speak out. // // So many

people talking: can we doubt // // that somewhere herein lies some d

nce-proud towers of Camelot. // // Few

people walk the brambled way // // And fewer still will pause or stay

The Lady’s Maid

to prevent it going walkabout, // // a

perambulation whenever it got to the spin // // part of its washing c

Good vibrations

/ // But no. Once in a while // // a

perfect burst still catches at my tastebuds // // and drags me back a

s // // of my childhood remain forever

perfect , // // forever simultaneously sweet and tart, // // sharp on

d time: // // that we could reach this

perfect knot // // and find ourselves at home. // //

h twisted limbs // // shed leaves with

perfect sculpted edges. // // A bramble sends great arcing shoots, //

of four by two turned it into // // a

perfect workbench—the cuts and holes and scars // // from saws and ha

ath are two, and now are one: // // no

perfectability except our own. // //

Sculpting the vortex

ill are two, and now are one: // // no

perfectability except our own. // // But Henri’s pieces rattle too an

Sculpting the vortex

ild are two, and now are one: // // no

perfectability except our own. // // His senseless trenches death at

Sculpting the vortex

hey are two, and now are one: // // no

perfectability except our own. // // In hard cast bronze all hardness

Sculpting the vortex

ish are two, and now are one: // // no

perfectability except our own. // // In Pompidou relief is on the wal

Sculpting the vortex

taste delicious.) // // Another tree,

perhaps a beech, but green // // (I think that I can see the nuts it

or I am well of love. // // Apples may

perhaps be comforting // // as any fruit, though Suliman’s pilaf //

The well of love

f the old South London cemetery. // //

Perhaps I should plant // // some box or holly. // //

few // // of which I can discern, even

perhaps // // identify across the years. A copper beech // // stand

/ // How can we counter-attack? // //

Perhaps if we asked him politely // // he’d remorsefully put them all

One of our cushions

float or sink a battle-ship. // // But

perhaps instead I will go the whole hog, the full nine yards: turn the

ns afterwards you don’t explain. // //

Perhaps they eat it with the other meat. // // But could they eat an

On offerings to the gods

ng to the gods? // // After the feast,

perhaps they throw it out. // // Could they just dump an offering to

On offerings to the gods

/ // that was thought to be. // // So

perhaps they will // // outlive us. // //

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

Perhaps tomorrow there’ll be wind // // Way-hay, blow us away // //

re, // // the banked sand and shingle,

perhaps // // (when the tide is high enough) // // as far the cliff.

Covehithe, Suffolk

ttom to the top // // so that the same

period games // // allow the lines to peter out // // and stop. //

a and Igor Stravinsky. // // A turn, a

period of change? // // Well, yes. In all the arts // // currents c

January Nineteen Hundred and One

f the table is sparse, but every second

period or layer, // // like the bard from Japan whose verses never wo

Periodical // // Earth, air, // // fire and water: just the four— /

// As we* reach the sixth and seventh

periods , short of horizontal space, // // we must** resort to footnot

But not for long // // —impermanence’s

permanence the rule. // // Change will last forever. // // At interv

h, a fox afar— // // night-time noises

permeate the air. // // Someone snoring in the tent next door, // //

/ Under canvas // // Night-time noises

permeate the air // // with voices human, animal, machine. // // An

g up the lane. // // Night-time noises

permeate the air // // with voices human, animal, machine. // // In

ngs with you, // // and could the last

person to alight please switch off the lights. // // This departure h

// // frescos are fragile, but Piero’s

perspective will // // live on long after his colours have gone; //

rol nor understand. // // 3 sideways:

perspiration // // Yet here’s a thought. Just maybe I can // // cir

samunde. // // Sorrow, longing, dreams

pervade the path // // in any season. // // The author, he whose lif

nza—and then to cease? It seems // //

perverse —the more because the fellow // // was not wearing glasses. /

period games // // allow the lines to

peter out // // and stop. // // † as we step through the double-star

/ One to ten thousand: Cambridge // //

Petty Cury; Park Parade; Pretoria Road // // streets; alleys; cycle p

and if the clouds might go, // // the

phase and time of setting of the moon, // // or any other facts you w

and years are counted and timed. // //

Philosophies are aired, // // temple columns spaced, // // lightning

// that somewhere herein lies some deep

philosophy ? // // Voices, ipods, phones speak out— // // add to the

oose; Mabe Burnthouse // // footpaths;

phone boxes; inns // // One to twenty five thousand: The Broads // /

deep philosophy? // // Voices, ipods,

phones speak out— // // add to the road’s cacophony. // // Dialectic

top deck of a 68 // // Voices, ipods,

phones speak out— // // add to the road’s cacophony. // // Through a

le mutter, shout, // // voices, ipods,

phones speak out. // // So many people talking: can we doubt // //

Kent, // // Emily Thornberry’s // //

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

Unnatural disasters

sic for the ceremony // // —a Schubert

piano piece.) // // Standing around the Cambridge crematorium, // //

was still managed by Jim Ede (he would

pick up a Brancusi stone head, or a small cut brass piece by Gaudier-B

Fragments of a life

// sent out in nineteen forty // // to

pick up soldiers // // from the beaches of Dunkirk // // and ferry t

ract // // pulling up the weeds // //

picking up the pieces // // wrapping up the meeting // // shutting u

Locking down too

, // // jars for all sorts of jams and

pickles . Washers // // and nuts and bolts and screws and hooks // /

the spume // // into irregular clots,

picks them up, // // and strews them downwind. // // The cliff // /

Covehithe, Suffolk

s // // some distant point outside the

picture frame. // // What does she see? Is there something there? //

Cape Cod Morning

louts // // masonry nails, screw-eyes,

picture hooks // // wallplugs, rivets, self-tapping metal screws, //

n’t quite recall. Nor can I now // //

picture it clearly. So why does it come to my mind? // // A couple o

Good vibrations

// for tomorrow’s blackberry-and-apple

pie // // —the ones you ate straight off the bush are saved forever).

ancusi stone head, or a small cut brass

piece by Gaudier-Brzeska, and put it into our hands). She introduced

Fragments of a life

had rotted half away. // // But a new

piece of four by two turned it into // // a perfect workbench—the cut

it in the middle is // // as long as a

piece of string. // //

A short treatise on string theory

r the ceremony // // —a Schubert piano

piece .) // // Standing around the Cambridge crematorium, // // dress

finished or abandoned projects, // //

pieces half-constructed or half-deconstructed, // // for some archite

lity except our own. // // But Henri’s

pieces rattle too and shake // // our sense of part and whole, netsuk

Sculpting the vortex

ling up the weeds // // picking up the

pieces // // wrapping up the meeting // // shutting up shop // //

Locking down too

x // // // // // Jacob’s Rock Drill

pierces through the brain // // and splits apart Edwardian disdain. /

Sculpting the vortex

// to an iron-gated pointed arch // //

piercing the wall, built like the house // // of weathered Cotswold s

rpoint— // // frescos are fragile, but

Piero’s perspective will // // live on long after his colours have go

// // brassica, hay, pelt, dove tale,

pigeon // // mouse’s back, mole’s or elephant’s breath // // peignoi

/ // distract me, or Suliman, from his

pilaf . // // But stay me not with raisins nor // // with flagons, fo

The well of love

// // or more appropriately, Suliman’s

pilaf . // // But stay me not with them, nor comfort me // // with ap

The well of love

ort me not // // with apples, nor with

pilaf . I can’t speak // // for Suliman, but I am well of love. // /

The well of love

g // // as any fruit, though Suliman’s

pilaf // // is real comfort food. But comfort me not // // with app

The well of love

rawers and cupboards. // // Chair with

pile of clothes. // // Feel something… // // Shit! The wrong trouse

Another senior moment

ng the remainder of the bench // // is

piled uncontained and unconstrained. // // Unused parts from finished

parts: giant concrete blocks // // on

piles all along the shingle beach. // // The mile south to the Martel

Walking in winter

is also digging down // // beneath the

piles . Then one stormy night // // it pulls the final prop. A hundr

Walking in winter

back of your hand as you reach past to

pilfer // // the clusters beyond, adding scratches // // to the stai

/ swollen with spring melt. But an old

pine forest // // always provides a bridge. The trunks // // of fal

nted forest, serried ranks of Christmas

pine // // which begins a mile down the road // // and into whose de

the consequence if // // it had been a

pineapple instead. // //

Newton’s counterfactuals

d us, in the wood, // // tall straight

pines reach for the sky, // // dark trunks against the blue, // // s

ngs // // growing bright // // gadget

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

// one final push up the ridge to the

pinnacle . // // Now to descend, an alternative route which is // //

in // // facing down the crisis // //

pinning down the problem // // throwing down the gauntlet // // batt

Locking down too

d the front— // // Nails: tacks, panel

pins , ovals and round; // // Screws: small, size 6, size 8, large. //

arsenic // // railings, pointing, down

pipe , clunch, setting plaster // // string, cord, matchstick, tallow,

’t be silly, that’s just the plumbing—a

pipe heating up. // // That breath of air? A passing presence? // /

n Rioja; Ormeaux on Lagoon // // taps;

pipes // // One to one // // You are here // //

t a kiwi // // equatorially: // // no

pips , no stone. // // Avocado: // // pole-to-pole // // all around

eze the juice // // leave the pith and

pips . // // Papaya, melon: // // pole-to-pole // // scoop out the m

unbounded domesticity. // // (not the

Pirates of Penzance – apologies to WSG) // //

d by rats and fleas // // but by their

piss and snot and sweat and spittle. // // Oh, people spread! Quick,

ant sound // // is continuous and high-

pitched . The borders we cross are eastward: // // under the channel

A poem for free

// squeeze the juice // // leave the

pith and pips. // // Papaya, melon: // // pole-to-pole // // scoop

. // // No matter! Now, in a stranger

place , a colder clime, // // with no arms, one leg, no tail, but rais

// way to wander into // // a better

place , a future that // // revives, replenishes, makes good // // th

now, // // which failing faculties to

place // // at its door. Rage too against // // the cessation of tr

so far behind. // // Old age ain’t no

place for sissies. // // —Bette Davis // //

// Raisins are all very well in their

place // // —in muesli, say, or maybe Christmas cake, // // or more

The well of love

that she should go // // And take her

place in service to // // The Lady of Shalott. // // Working all day

The Lady’s Maid

// and conjure me to quite a different

place . // // Jump willing into every word-filled well, // // fall, f

Jump willing in

s lap // // a clay pope’s // // soapy

place . // // So apply, ace: // // scope a play // // apocalypse. //

plea as copy. // // Ape calypso // //

place , so pay // // a cosy Apple // // app, coy sale. // // Aye, co

digits hold softly, lift softly // //

place softly against another softness // // and soft voice says // /

ed bulb to hold // // the other two in

place . // // Subjective // // Discomfort. Bother. // // Irritation

Capricorn suite

Using your Kettle // //

Place the cordless base on a level firm surface. // // Whe

Using your Kettle

operly firmly closed. // //

Place the kettle on the cordless base making sure it is positioned cor

Using your Kettle

d long ago, // // once upon a time and

place , // // the world just so, // // a pretty maiden, heart aglow /

The world just so

d’s thick black hair, // // staying in

place until at home // // the small gas fire has warmed the room //

Walking in winter

thing they might be in. // // Turn the

place upside down. // // Bedroom again, more drawers and cupboards. /

Another senior moment

dy beach // // to reach by boat. That

place we call Japan: // // against the sky, a line of those same firs

Plague // // // In some far-off

place we know but little // // across so many alien lands and seas //

desire, fertile earth // // beneath, a

place where something would unfold, // // something hard would turn t

a mud cliff, undercut and crumbling in

places , // // crested by the fuzz of last year’s growth, // // looks

many artists. As I have visited other

places , I have found other treasures, and regret not having had the ch

Fragments of a life

lves, cupboards, hooks, drawers. // //

Places I wouldn’t have put them. // // Move anything they might be be

Another senior moment

Hear the marsh-birds calling // // in

places it has lost, reoccupation // // Breath the scents the sea-wind

// // Many art galleries in many

places . Three solid days in the Uffizi in Florence. Walking in the d

Fragments of a life

in time // // to keep the carriers of

plague at bay. // // Yet someone here is staggering and stumbling— //

Plague // // // In some far-off place we know but little // // acro

river, meandering across // // a flood

plain , excavates one bank // // as it lays down the other, // // swi

be bold // // brake train // // it’s

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

y simple or quite complex? // // Is it

plain or hard to know? // // Is it written in spray-paint all over th

The truth about x

flow // // the river Don and flood the

plain . // // The light is fading now. // // Politicians on the stump

—could I but find the words to make it

plain . // // Two book-ends bracket our shared domain: // // the star

t // // Cash m/c // // Washing // //

Plan finances—get advisor? G’s contact maybe // // Ring M about Xmas

Notes to a life

ields // // One to five hundred: Block

plan // // Sherlock Road; Sherlock Court; Sherlock Close // // house

// Heatherwick’s sure to produce a fine

plan . // // We also need money—of course private finance will // //

Troubled waters

like to understand // // the stars and

planets overhead // // as well as actions close at hand // // (the a

// tree-house, a canted deck of ancient

planks , // // nailed across two angled branches, reached // // by cl

// // (Two weeks later, British Rail’s

plans // // were scrapped and redesigned. The house still stands.) /

Peckham 1969—1991

ondon cemetery. // // Perhaps I should

plant // // some box or holly. // //

the fire // // on the dark stones, and

planted fireworks // // in the dark edges beyond the flickering light

d, tufted crown—quite unlike // // the

planted forest, serried ranks of Christmas pine // // which begins a

// —Nurturing the wayward seed, // //

Planting out this cabbage-bed— // // She was once a lady’s maid // /

The Lady’s Maid

andful of trees, bulbs // // and other

plants . // // On one // // a stately ram, great curved horns // //

South London standoff

is—to mix the genes around. // // The

plants , the fish, the dinosaurs, the apes // // advance across the ge

udith, artist, // // models in clay or

plaster , // // casts in plaster or cement or resin, // // draws in p

els in clay or plaster, // // casts in

plaster or cement or resin, // // draws in pencil or pen or charcoal,

s, pointing, down pipe, clunch, setting

plaster // // string, cord, matchstick, tallow, vardo // // cromarty

ainers // // once had other uses. The

plastic boxes // // were made for slides or toothpowder, tins // //

nds another of much later age: // // a

plastic chest with small, clear plastic drawers // // —unlabelled, bu

/ // a plastic chest with small, clear

plastic drawers // // —unlabelled, but the nuts and bolts and washers

They should have given me a

plastic plate // // More! I want some more! // // A spoon to the fl

They should have given me a plastic plate

llow neon light // // spilling through

plate -glass windows // // across the pavement. // // A bartender ben

anule. // // The first boilers of iron

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

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

They should have given me a plastic

plate // // More! I want some more! // // A spoon to the floor— //

They should have given me a plastic plate

// I said more! More! More! // // A

plate to the floor— // // shatter! // //

They should have given me a plastic plate

avy goods train rattles the windows and

plates // // on the shelves. Later, the local rumour states // // t

Peckham 1969—1991

e. // // So apply, ace: // // scope a

play // // apocalypse. // //

age maybe eight or ten, // // I would

play competitive games // // in the vast (as it felt) asphalt playgro

. You’ll find // // that every single

play is here // // a new production for this year // // of celebrati

Septilla CDSeptilla CD*

// // In the beginning I am small and

playful , like the wind. // // It changes direction from minute to min

// // in the vast (as it felt) asphalt

playground // // just across the road // // from the Victorian turre

I limp into harbour. My // // family

playing , completely oblivious. // //

om; Café Bar // // courts; staircases;

playing fields // // One to five hundred: Block plan // // Sherlock

palace spy. // // Lay pop case // //

plea as copy. // // Ape calypso // // place, so pay // // a cosy Ap

Septilla CD* // //

Please choose from the following nine // // options: if you want the

Septilla CDSeptilla CD*

ptions: if you want the tempest // //

please press one; for love’s labour’s lost // // press two; or three

Septilla CDSeptilla CD*

// and could the last person to alight

please switch off the lights. // // This departure has arrived. // /

// This train terminates here. // //

Please take all your belongings with you, // // and could the last pe

process was not at all fair. // // The

pledges from business are far from what’s needed. The // // real pub

Troubled waters

of course, the bracken // // has been

ploughed , the edges fenced, the house // // demolished and rebuilt.

at my invasion of its space. // // Two

plovers wait a little longer, // // then follow suit; the oystercatc

// now on the bridge I am pulling the

plug .” // //

Troubled waters

positioned correctly. // //

Plug in and switch on at the wall socket. // // Put the ON

Using your Kettle

-fi café. Send a letter. // // Laptop,

plug in power socket. // // Click to send. // // I love you. // //

battery box, switches, lights, buzzers,

plugs // // and connecting leads. Another pair // // of brackets, t

sh. // // We wire from scratch, // //

plumb , strip everything: // // wallpaper from walls, // // distemper

// // Don’t be silly, that’s just the

plumbing —a pipe heating up. // // That breath of air? A passing pres

// ammonite, mahogany, archive // //

plummett // // Note: Fifty colours of Farrow & Ball // //

of fishermen and trading sailors // //

ply back and forth overhead. Was I carried for trade? // // Or in pa

// // into four or more sections, with

plywood strips // // carefully cut and glued. And labelled the front

cket. // // No. No? No. // // Other

pocket ? // // No. // // Jacket, maybe? // // No. // // But which j

Another senior moment

Another senior moment // // // //

Pocket . // // No. No? No. // // Other pocket? // // No. // // Ja

Another senior moment

ere? // // It was in the corresponding

pocket of the trousers which he had worn on the day but one preceding.

Another senior moment

Small change // // Change in my

pocket — // // too much weight, too much rattle // // too many small

er length, or maybe short, // // patch

pockets (useless for cold hands), // // thick felted wool, a monk-lik

Donkeys don’t wear jackets

tried to write // // tried to write a

poem eludes me // // No time // // for flow // // or rhyme, // //

This poem eludes me

poem for free // // The night mail rattles north to the border // //

A poem for free

t appointment—week of 10th // // Write

poem for Weds // //

Notes to a life

nt musical box. // // There once was a

poet in Ghent // // Who set out with the best of intent // // In rol

A poem for free

ly eccentric twentieth-century American

poet , // // Mr Ogden Nash, and carry on without much attention to met

me to be known to ’im. // // … and one

poet // // Thomas Stearns Eliot // // wrote poetry well, but // //

, we know, goes on for ever, his // //

poetry too to posterity speaks; // // Joyce has his Liffey whose reci

/ // Thomas Stearns Eliot // // wrote

poetry well, but // // was no great shakes // // in the marriage sta

both inspire and destroy // // so many

poets and other artists // // which will drag us // // kicking and s

January Nineteen Hundred and One

be your open door // // to visit many

poets small and great, // // examples of the form both good and poor

n // // will emerge from the vanishing

point . // //

escent moon— // // waxing if the horns

point east // // and waning if west. // // In the creek tides rise a

l, warm air, // // clear to my vantage

point on higher ground. // // Voices far across the valley sound. //

over grass, towards // // some distant

point outside the picture frame. // // What does she see? Is there s

Cape Cod Morning

till—and I, // // reaching the meeting

point under the bridge // // and finding you, my lover and my friend.

o full maturity // // to an iron-gated

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

its secret: // // the apple is a five-

pointed fruit. // //

ay, blackened, arsenic // // railings,

pointing , down pipe, clunch, setting plaster // // string, cord, matc

// He is a leader of Flemish weavers,

pointing the rest // // towards their major source of trade: // // E

A poem for free

tersect or fork. Some of these meeting-

points // // are signposted with names and distances // // that only

// and you must release them // // by

poking your finger // // into the hole. // // The run was already ol

best interests. // // Too bad. // //

Polarity // // // First the bad news, then the good: // // it's can

Capricorn suite

o stone. // // Avocado: // // pole-to-

pole // // all around the stone // // twist to separate. // // Oran

alongside // // almost pole to almost

pole // // close as you can. // // Apple, pear: // // pole-to-pole

can. // // Apple, pear: // // pole-to-

pole // // in half then quarters // // cut the core from each. // /

two and a half inches in diameter (the

pole // // itself and four-inch rings surely to be found // // elsew

lazily along and then // // greet each

pole like a jumping jack. // // The bogeys go: click-clack click-cla

s. // // Papaya, melon: // // pole-to-

pole // // scoop out the mushy core. // // Mango: // // find the fl

ne // // slice alongside // // almost

pole to almost pole // // close as you can. // // Apple, pear: // /

pips, no stone. // // Avocado: // //

pole -to-pole // // all around the stone // // twist to separate. //

as you can. // // Apple, pear: // //

pole -to-pole // // in half then quarters // // cut the core from eac

and pips. // // Papaya, melon: // //

pole -to-pole // // scoop out the mushy core. // // Mango: // // fin

rackets, this time for a wooden curtain

pole , // // two and a half inches in diameter (the pole // // itself

use the other side of Sheffield. // //

Polish husband transforms into // // Yorkshire male, expecting // //

Ninety-six and counting

/ for cocoa or throat lozenges or metal

polish , // // jars for all sorts of jams and pickles. Washers // //

/ // Later, one of the lodgers— // //

Polish serviceman and refugee— // // is worth another try. A son. //

Ninety-six and counting

-attack? // // Perhaps if we asked him

politely // // he’d remorsefully put them all back. // // Six of our

One of our cushions

discourse, argument of any kind— // //

political , fictitious, mythologic // // or legal. Just come seek, an

Clerihews // // Five

politicians … // // Margaret Thatcher // // observed that her natu- /

// // The light is fading now. // //

Politicians on the stump // // make promises-to-go // // inspired by

Rationale // // That scratching? A

poltergeist behind the skirting? // // Don’t be silly, that’s just a

erfectability except our own. // // In

Pompidou relief is on the wall, // // wrestling figures, clinched bef

Sculpting the vortex

mbling under the sky. // // Sea-birds,

pond -birds, dippers, warblers, song-birds, // // waders, hunters hove

// a swan-song, left behind for us to

ponder , // // in any season. // //

d waters // // The good Lady Lumley is

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

Troubled waters

hty miles north-west // // moored on a

pontoon // // in a tidal Norfolk creek // // a hundred yards from my

rivulets // // to drain the chains of

pools that lace // // the spreading sands and soft mudflats: // // t

// // —but Sadiq the Most Evil deposes

poor Boris, and // // gets the Red Margaret to look at the case. //

Troubled waters

// My sign is Aries. Though it seems a

poor // // fit for me, it is at least a Fire. // // The others too I

// examples of the form both good and

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

ay cap, // // O palace spy. // // Lay

pop case // // plea as copy. // // Ape calypso // // place, so pay

ale. // // Aye, cops lap // // a clay

pope’s // // soapy place. // // So apply, ace: // // scope a play /

e and fall // // and rise again. Great

populations press // // against their boundaries. The vital stress //

oards high displayed, // // each model

posed in languid attitude, // // in birthday suit and little else arr

For Robert Graves

soak it up when poured on land, // //

Poseidon take it when it’s poured at sea. // // But sacrifice is some

On offerings to the gods

to ten million: Middle East // // Bam

Posht ; Badiyat ash Sham; Bisharin // // railways; borders; deserts //

Put the ON / OFF switch to its ‘ON’

position and the switch will illuminate. // // When the wa

Using your Kettle

ally by putting the switch to the ‘OFF’

position . // // To re-boil the kettle, switch it on again.

Using your Kettle

on the cordless base making sure it is

positioned correctly. // // Plug in and switch on at the w

Using your Kettle

s, interpret what they find. // // The

possibility of peace is now long gone. // // In just a few days’ time

Capricorn suite

nning for that. // // There’s only one

possible answer: // // this cat-burglar’s Buster the cat. // //

One of our cushions

r some real delta integration // // is

possible at all. I have to try. // //

m surface. // // Where ever

possible fill the kettle through the spout as this will help to reduce

Using your Kettle

ves. // // Clearance time. What can I

possibly salvage // // from all this? // //

wn the groove // // into a hole in the

post . // // A satisfying click, then it runs // // down the next gro

// // there was a wooden run. // // A

post at either end, // // five grooved sloping rails, // // a tray a

version of Rodin’s Balzac, and called “

Post -Balzac”. It is a full-length bronze cape, upright and rounded as

Fragments of a life

post has been sounded. // // The last

post has been collected. // // The last word has been had. // // Not

is the end of the line. // // The last

post has been sounded. // // The last post has been collected. // //

nted paper, dip-pen, ink. // // Branch

post office, penny stamp. // // I love you. // // Papered bedsit. Se

ge. So wrap it up tight, // // to the

post office take it. They’ll ask what’s inside. // // Not distance,

/ the sign on the wall, the sign on the

post , // // the white-painted sign spreadeagled on the road. // // W

The rain and the air

Post truth // // // ‘Oh Mirror that hangs on the wall // // who is

ey decide // // what to charge you for

postage . So wrap it up tight, // // to the post office take it. The

der // // (bringing the cheque and the

postal order). // // Rhythmic verses with echoed refrain // // in th

A poem for free

s on for ever, his // // poetry too to

posterity speaks; // // Joyce has his Liffey whose recirculation keep

warm as toast // // flames gone // //

potatoes roast // // embers warm // // flames gone // // last glow

rm as toast // // smoulder down // //

potatoes roast // // warm as toast // // flames gone // // potatoes

// when the imagination fires. // //

Pots are thrown and fired, // // crops are watered. // // Seasons an

/ mollycoddle for one day // // put in

pouch // // ready to go // // // // // // Recipe for starting a

Ode to the yeast wind

rdough starters, carefully protected in

pouches around their necks or attached to their belts. // //

Ode to the yeast wind

Must get rid of the pennies // // (the

pounds get rid of themselves). // //

// // Way-hay, blow us away // // And

pour a bucket on my head // // Give me some wind to blow us away //

/ // heat till it catches fire, // //

pour out the blue flame. // // After lunch, a walk // // through the

Light and shadow

land, // // Poseidon take it when it’s

poured at sea. // // But sacrifice is something else again // // You

On offerings to the gods

tand— // // Gaea would soak it up when

poured on land, // // Poseidon take it when it’s poured at sea. // /

On offerings to the gods

the kettle has boiled the water may be

poured out through the spout. // //

Using your Kettle

g here that puzzles me. // // Libation

pouring , I can understand— // // Gaea would soak it up when poured on

On offerings to the gods

rward. // // Build speed. // // Build

power . // // Forge ahead. // // Spread. // // Reach. // // Slacken

back. // // Build speed. // // Build

power . // // Pull in. // // Merge. // // Retract. // // Slacken. /

. Send a letter. // // Laptop, plug in

power socket. // // Click to send. // // I love you. // //

ted 1933 // // the year Hitler came to

power ). // // Then we get on with our lives: // // the repainting ca

Unnatural disasters // // Pribble and

prabble : as // // Nigel’s marauding and // // taking two toeholds in

Unnatural disasters

// spring from the hands of the great

Praxiteles ? // // I cannot now recall. // // No matter! Now, in a s

ets— // // and who were my companions,

pray ? // // Old friends, new friends did I meet? // // I cannot say.

The dream I dreamt

wed overnight // // in the oven of the

pre -war Aga, they will emerge // // a startling deep red, and taste d

rs which he had worn on the day but one

preceding .” // // —James Joyce, Ulysses. // //

Another senior moment

sh. Take care not to spill // // your

precious hoard (I mean the ones you will deliver // // for tomorrow’s

ea-crag in miniature, // // a tumbling

precipice of rock—or maybe ice // // from a dying glacier. // // On

// Skirting the back of the Little Man

precipice , // // one final push up the ridge to the pinnacle. // //

the undergrowth. // // Look closely:

precise angular spirals // // strung around precise radial anchor lin

se angular spirals // // strung around

precise radial anchor lines. // // Across the channel, tidal creeks /

a boiler burn the duck head. // // The

prefecture of river drives meal chicken, // // Olive dish dried meat

Colourless green ideas found sleeping furiously

here are no seats; she is 4 or 5 months

pregnant at the time. A tiny middle-aged New York woman, sitting on a

Fragments of a life

of the herd // // and how it’s killed,

prepared , and cooked and served. // // What happens afterwards you do

On offerings to the gods

. // // That breath of air? A passing

presence ? // // Don’t be silly, that’s just a draught from the door.

// Another day // // to feel your ever-

present absence, still // // to find a way. // // I hear you say, //

Veg—broccoli? // // Some fruit // //

Present for C—book? // // Coat to cleaners // // Pay newsagent // /

Notes to a life

lenishes, makes good // // the damaged

present , this dark night? // // Not to return to old // // ways—that

/ // and rise again. Great populations

press // // against their boundaries. The vital stress // // express

if you want the tempest // // please

press one; for love’s labour’s lost // // press two; or three for cy

Septilla CDSeptilla CD*

s one; for love’s labour’s lost // //

press two; or three for cymbelline; // // the merry wives of windsor,

Septilla CDSeptilla CD*

mbridge // // Petty Cury; Park Parade;

Pretoria Road // // streets; alleys; cycle paths // // One to two th

and a glass in her hand. // // See the

pretty girl in that mirror there— // // Who can that attactive girl b

All done with mirrors

bell.) // // we there did espy a fair

pretty maid // // with a comb and a glass in her hand. // // See the

All done with mirrors

ace, // // the world just so, // // a

pretty maiden, heart aglow // // will sit and spin, so full of grace,

The world just so

be bolted // // down to the floor, to

prevent it going walkabout, // // a perambulation whenever it got to

Good vibrations

y three, the newsprint said. // // The

previous occupant, known as Mister Gray, // // (easier than his prope

Peckham 1969—1991

marsh // // where barn-owls hunt their

prey . But not for long // // —impermanence’s permanence the rule. //

Unnatural disasters // //

Pribble and prabble: as // // Nigel’s marauding and // // taking two

Unnatural disasters

—for G) // // From random junctures in

primeval winds // // a billion random patterns form—until // // an a

the project proceeds with a little more

priming (the // // buy-in from business is not keeping pace) // // —

Troubled waters

eath. // // On magic carpet // // the

Prince of Crim Tartary // // flies into the night. // // The paraffi

Light and shadow

ar away and long ago. // // A handsome

prince will boldly go // // and dangers great will bravely face, //

The world just so

vellous, // // resonates on though the

print becomes faint; // // just as each new generation soon finds its

// Subjective // // An invasion of my

privacy . // // An assault on my dignity. // // An abrogation of my a

Capricorn suite

an. // // We also need money—of course

private finance will // // jump to join in, but needs time to come th

Troubled waters

// to tell? // // This painting has a

private life. // //

Cape Cod Morning

we were driving too fast. // // I was

probably driving too fast // // to see the flowers in the hedgerows.

ing at the tail end of my colon: // //

probably malignant. // // ‘Malignant’ seems too strong a word. // //

Capricorn suite

kely to send out a search party? // //

Probably not until well after dark has come. // // Should I start cra

asure, long beaks buried full // // to

probe deep down beneath the shining mud. // //

ily // // Start. // // Tiptoe. // //

Probe . // // Grow. // // Push forward. // // Build speed. // // Bu

// // godwit, curlew—long // // beaks

probing deep // // beneath the // // shining // // mud. // // Sonn

This formulation // // both lays the

problem out and then reveals // // the parts of a solution. // // Al

down the crisis // // pinning down the

problem // // throwing down the gauntlet // // battening down the ha

Locking down too

row in some too.” // // So the project

proceeds with a little more priming (the // // buy-in from business i

Troubled waters

ain on our taxes. The // // tendering

process was not at all fair. // // The pledges from business are far

Troubled waters

my ego—the // // Heatherwick’s sure to

produce a fine plan. // // We also need money—of course private finan

Troubled waters

and dug and then set fire to // // the

produce of our labours. // // A box or holly root, smouldering slowly

mother’s next big venture after // //

producing six of us. // // L-shaped the house; enclosed within its ar

every single play is here // // a new

production for this year // // of celebration—every line // // the B

Septilla CDSeptilla CD*

ed Michael Finnegan— // // thought his

profile needed broadening // // thought he’d flaunt a bushy grin—but

rizon // // container ships in stately

progress pass // // destined for Harwich or for Felixstowe. // //

” // // Sadiq says “The Boris’s vanity

project has // // gone off the rails. I’m not such a mug. // // I’v

Troubled waters

el to throw in some too.” // // So the

project proceeds with a little more priming (the // // buy-in from bu

Troubled waters

pondering glumly. “I // // need a new

project to keep me in trim— // // now the Gurkhas are happy—some shin

Troubled waters

Unused parts from finished or abandoned

projects , // // pieces half-constructed or half-deconstructed, // //

ith // // all the other long-abandoned

projects .) // // This one started with an almighty bang // // —thoug

// are still at college // // Sergei

Prokofiev and Carl Orf // // still at school // // Aaron Copland and

January Nineteen Hundred and One

// Politicians on the stump // // make

promises -to-go // // inspired by our local Trump. // // The light is

bench seat, observes the situation, and

promptly , busily, without rising from her seat, makes everyone shuffle

Fragments of a life

u for calling Shakespeareline. // // *

pronounced ’four hundred’ // //

Septilla CDSeptilla CD*

stormy night // // it pulls the final

prop . A hundred yards // // of man’s best effort at defence // // d

Walking in winter

// That book will set you puzzles which

propel // // your thoughts, destroy or reconstruct a case: // // jum

Jump willing in

, when my mother died // // we had the

proper formal funeral. // // (She had chosen the music for the ceremo

as Mister Gray, // // (easier than his

proper name of Gouriet) // // had come as a child sixty-odd years bef

Peckham 1969—1991

hesised. Some of them do not even have

proper names. // // The eighth layer has not been started yet, so the

the Klondike in 1896, in order to make

proper San Francisco bread, prospectors would carry with them their so

Ode to the yeast wind

Always make sure that the lid is

properly firmly closed. // // Place the kettle on the cord

Using your Kettle

der to make proper San Francisco bread,

prospectors would carry with them their sourdough starters, carefully

Ode to the yeast wind

hem their sourdough starters, carefully

protected in pouches around their necks or attached to their belts. //

Ode to the yeast wind

drawn). // // The line of pebble-dunes

protects // // a calmer green oasis, band of salt-marsh // // where

the street. // // We joined the local

protest , but to small // // effect. At last we felt we had to call /

Peckham 1969—1991

// // tuckerbib show that it’s // //

protocanonical // // fruit—as you cuss. // //

/ // shin on a knife-edge of rock that

protrudes from the // // edge of the path, not yet blunted or bowdler

the weedy hedgerows, by // // The once-

proud towers of Camelot. // // Few people walk the brambled way // /

The Lady’s Maid

tterly. And I have the scars // // to

prove it. // // The all-clear // // // Blitz. The heavy bombers, l

Capricorn suite

. But an old pine forest // // always

provides a bridge. The trunks // // of fallen trees, fresh from the

ar from what’s needed. The // // real

public benefit’s not even there.” // // Sadiq says “The Boris’s vanit

Troubled waters

// and absurd // // slave again // //

pull chain // // be bold // // brake train // // it’s plain // //

Build speed. // // Build power. // //

Pull in. // // Merge. // // Retract. // // Slacken. // // Settle.

st emerged? // // Did I jump, or was I

pulled or pushed? // // Did I leap a chasm, ford a raging torrent, //

Capricorn suite

y for—and // // now on the bridge I am

pulling the plug.” // //

Troubled waters

k // // tearing up the contract // //

pulling up the weeds // // picking up the pieces // // wrapping up t

Locking down too

piles. Then one stormy night // // it

pulls the final prop. A hundred yards // // of man’s best effort at

Walking in winter

l // // whose music makes your languid

pulses race: // // fall, fall into the writer’s well-cast spell. //

Jump willing in

cistern, wonderfully // // ornate. A

pump and valves from a washing machine. // // An electric fan. The d

t, but got // // only a fib on a cheap

pun // // … a swindle… // // [One iamb, two anapest] feet // // [ma

Fibonacci series

us culprit here, // // except for age,

pure and simple. No rage— // // just a sort of passive acceptance. /

of course // // has a source // // of

pure water: a still. // // Garden shed // // with a still? Local /

There must be moonshine

// blue sea // // silver lake // //

purple moor // // green forest // // clear stream // // grey mounta

Derby town they settled down // // on

purple sage to lie. // // A Cheshire cat accosted them, // // then w

// for some architectural or mechanical

purpose // // now half-forgotten. Electrical components. // // A pa

owing what it is, // // we take on the

purpose of the wind; // // we march in formation. // // The wind fee

ves no longer // // serving any useful

purpose . // // The clutter covering the remainder of the bench // //

ones. // // The wind grows steady and

purposeful . // // We form into rows and columns across the deep. //

// Now I feel the flood’s return // //

push against my trickle home, // // to creep back in when I have gone

ptoe. // // Probe. // // Grow. // //

Push forward. // // Build speed. // // Build power. // // Forge ahe

// tendrils into the dark and damp. Now

push out above, // // buds into the waxing light, the spring rain. Th

cle // // Wake. // // Feel the water.

Push out below, // // tendrils into the dark and damp. Now push out a

Little Man precipice, // // one final

push up the ridge to the pinnacle. // // Now to descend, an alternati

? // // Did I jump, or was I pulled or

pushed ? // // Did I leap a chasm, ford a raging torrent, // // get r

Capricorn suite

angry, howling and shrieking. // // It

pushes us harder, // // makes us grow broader and taller, // // swee

Pushing 60 // // My sixtieth birthday is nearing— // // brings a tho

irds calling // // against the current

pushing strongly townward. // // Breath the scents the sea-winds brin

und-swell gently break and sift, // //

pushing the shingle back and forth and to and fro, // // in a flat ca

ite clear that the hour // // for soft

pussy -footing is past. // // It can’t be a student or fellow— // //

One of our cushions

l // // mollycoddle for one day // //

put in pouch // // ready to go // // // // // // Recipe for star

Ode to the yeast wind

iles remaining, or // // should I stay

put in the hope of a rescuer? // // Slowly I realise the pain is subs

cut brass piece by Gaudier-Brzeska, and

put it into our hands). She introduced me to so many artists. As I h

Fragments of a life

e rain! // // He swallowed the rain to

put out the fire. // // You’d think he’d expire from swallowing fire.

, // // a tray at the base. // // You

put the marble in at the top; // // it runs down the groove // // in

n at the wall socket. // //

Put the ON / OFF switch to its ‘ON’ position and the switch will illum

Using your Kettle

d him politely // // he’d remorsefully

put them all back. // // Six of our cushions are missing. // // The

One of our cushions

drawers. // // Places I wouldn’t have

put them. // // Move anything they might be behind or under. // // L

Another senior moment

o more— // // your gentle snore // //

puts all the ghosts to flight. // //

kettle can be switched off manually by

putting the switch to the ‘OFF’ position. // // To re-boil

Using your Kettle

// // screwing up your courage // //

putting up resistance // // throwing up earthworks // // zipping up

Locking down too

// Homer, there’s something here that

puzzles me. // // Libation pouring, I can understand— // // Gaea wou

On offerings to the gods

st spell. // // That book will set you

puzzles which propel // // your thoughts, destroy or reconstruct a ca

Jump willing in

derstand why people have // // funeral

pyres .) Later we scatter the ashes // // in a wild part of the old S