river bridge to Rosemary Menzies in memoriam on reading her ‘The old Bridge (Mostar)’; her poem is posted online at: http://www.most.ba/ob/menzies.aspx The original ‘Old Bridge’ was destroyed in the war in former Yugoslavia in shelling by the Croatian army and rebuilt in the style and using much of the technology of the original. Rosemary so…
Month: July 2018
The Man Who Lost It All
Some days in the winter, all he could do was sit in the cold dark kitchen. The light – his wife – had gone. They knew that was coming. It was in the creaks, the pain. Then she was gone and the sadness covered him. It sat on his nights and his days. When he…
tension
Tantalus had it hard, the prize so near yet. the Crow also – his Cup, next door, like you I do not. consider it.
Ghosts
I’ve seen them with my own two eyes a sight I wish I hadn’t. To bare witness to these spectres is a sight I wish to never repeat, On a realm unlike our own these ghosts doomed to roam with company the likes of pain hurt and deceit, These beings were just like we, They…
A friends eye is a good mirror
Lonely a road cold Leave the critics to their retorts This is no scripture No ancient Latin definition It’s a story of how they met For the rest of you this is where it begins She sits with an apple Entices the serpent The boy will follow Biting into her neck She eats the freshly…
Flotation Devices #1
1 There’s a poem in this I’m certain, the memory came while reading the curtains parted into hearts of other poets: a summer evening sea swim alone below the green and red leather -leaf flower tree. I’d quit my full-time work making either bread or circuit boards or ice cream and I had opted out…
a fight i should have won
Is nothing I said as he plucked the blade from my skull & stemmed the blood with his pants. I do not… here &, how I’m holed up now, fucked with too much, I can’t say. But I feel, I think, somewhat emotional. Like I want to cry because I’m helpless, & there’s…
glass
glass the estuary this morning was melting out of glass into blues of sky all along it the trees the houses on the shore and further up stood as shadows between sun last night’s breath still on the air bridge st, panmure june 2018
the sport of it
the sport of it you read the best guide to field hockey ever written practiced ‘flicks’* and ‘pushes’ against a wide plank in the backyard read Rod Laver’s* own story so you too could grow up to be the greatest left-hander in tennis you were right-handed watched Onny Parun* and Brian Fairlie* hammer out those…
The Dogs’ Eyes Flicker
It is said he clicked coins and in the tawny country it was like the bolt of a rifle, and the dog knew what that meant. These dogs know left and right, to stop and to ease forward. The little bitches crane their necks down so that their eyes bewitch; the huntaways stand shoulders square,…
new evils
lady, true: it’s good to be as you will to feel heat, sun, the downward tug of your dog on the leash, to walk with confidence. my pen meantime draws blood. There’s nothing so hot as red spots on white skin. you’re in my keep still.
The crows of loathing
Sad lonely eyes so suddenly appeared, hidden behind a disguised face, set in a false plastic place. You can see if you look with more than crystal shot eyes, hidden away under sorrow, drenched with distress, this becomes us so easily, and I fall as prey none the less, I start to hear them calling…