Song for the track
You are so earthly good.
It is right that your contours
should mellow with age.
Erosion. Depletion.
Tug of gravity.
And anyway
while you turn
these exquisite
icy tricks
time is immaterial.
Lost property
If only it had been my
tenuous faith that had
slipped loose and away as did
your final parting gift.
That locket with the picture
of birds (not seeds) flying free
from a dandelion.
But, I the foolish one
not ready for the day
or hour of its undoing
I forgot
that the clasp
was broken
that . . .
Snappy dresser on the 6.14
Just like this train
to have on it
a man with shiny golden
crocodile shoes
Now that's something
you don't see
every day
He wears the secret smile
of one who dreams
above his station
Who does he
think he is?
Why I oughta tell him
where to get off
And would you believe it?
He . . .
I'm a blackstar
Something happened on the day you died, Mr Bowie. I saw strange things and for one moment there, I passed my old self upon the stair. Driving south the sun was a mad red orb in its last throws. Scary Monsters was playing on the radio. A giant robot praying mantis with glowing eyes loomed from the other lane. At a point of passing it morphed . . .
View from the Pou
Don't yearn for happiness.
She is a crashing ball
of summer sun
that softens and dapples
even faces darkened by days.
An illusion that all is beauty
as the serene sea catches fire
catches in your throat
and groans while
below that lumpy horizon
you know the South
has hours left to dance.
Go . . .
Antennae
Was it something, or nothing?
that word
that comma
that dash
that dot
that flutter
that glance
that tick
that tock
that snigger
that smirk
that silence
that sigh
that night
that you
that I
Pippa
by Clarrie Macklin
It's a loose procession, nothing formal, just those you knew best, walking a familiar path
to the beach.
Mum keeps your ashes in a box. No need for an elegy. You're an animal after all.
Instead, stories re-emerge
You never failed to recognise this place,
Dad could barely drive under the whines of a . . .
