Tuesday, 19 April 2011

Powder Burn

Out there the nettles grow
in the last wild place, whilst
sitting at a desk like a million others
a man in a cheap suit twiddles his thumbs
waiting for his heart to turn into ash and dust.
Daylight becomes a triple distilled memory
through a monitor’s glare and blends
all his emails into a search warrant,
a death sentence, a Dear John.

Wednesday, 13 April 2011


That’s no space station, just a moon
under which the dog ends have been cast,
soothsaying stones around which we
gather at the end of summer’s first light.
One possible truth evades definition
in glibly respectful text message farewells
making it more than blatantly obvious
we’ll never see each other again.
We both know that time will turn
this ache from a chasm into a ditch
filled with the dazzling minutiae of lives
you’ve convinced yourself must be lived apart,
so no matter how close we actually are
you will make sure that we’re far away.

Sunday, 10 April 2011

Long Distance

Shadows fall long.
The echo essence
of monuments and men
carved into the ground
like trenches of anti-light.

“You’ll be fine.”
A bus station sentiment
dropped into the goodbye
to make it easier
on yourself.

Time has taught me
to endure the agony of
an unanswered phone as
I wear your old favourite jumper 
and pretend that you’re still close.

Friday, 8 April 2011


Chrysanthemums of wayward photons
Bloom in a patch of broken glass as
Days on the calendar turn into prison cells
Built out of empty space and time.
The balm of sleep no longer soothes
Instead it torments me and sears
Memories of my nightmares
Into my face like Borstal tears.
What price now, all that talk
Of truths shared and held back
Now that your absence is the only
Presence that I am able to feel?
Like the northern star when the sky
Is overcast you are no longer constant
And in the pathless darkness I find
That my centre cannot hold.
Worse of course if you were dead
But better that than living and
Not within my grasp or sight
To rid me of this lonely curse.

Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Life Chances

/Sigh...for a world of absolutes
instead of these endless shades of grey
which make me wonder if the colour is gone
or if it was ever there to begin with.
It is impossible to fail when
success is not an option,
and defeat is worth admitting
if victory would only be Pyrrhic.
Our lives are kept crammed, jam-packed
full of stuff to avoid understanding
that despite all we’ve said and done
in the end it is nothing that we’ve become.