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Table Top
I present you with the facts. The measure is eight thousand and forty-eight point two miles from the cricket field in West Sussex, England, (where the two men played together for the same village side during the summers), to the top of Table Mountain. The rotating cable car travels some nine hundred and ninety-one feet →
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Deeply, Madly, Platonically
In truth, at firstYou were not the main attractionAlthough your bright green dressWith those sharp white seamsWas and always is immaculateRegardless of the time of dayOr eveningOr cast of weatherIt was that part of you that initially caught my eyeAnd breathIn wonder at the prospect of such magicYou might conjure upFrom that simple piece of →
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But There’s A Catch
From SwedenA postcard arrivesThere’s only oneWho makes it out aliveAnd an old manLiving in a Sicilian brothelWho cannot loseWhile all the rest are lostAlong that runway madness liesAnd so it ends as it beginsHelp him! Help who?Yossarian. I’m Yossarian.Who finally comes to understandThe answer lies in his own hands ~ n.b. NaPoWriMo 2024: Day 1 →
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on time
Gentlemen, we meet againI know the chill of that long wallWhere your names are cut in stoneBeside the Haileybury chapelNinety years from your leavingI repaired the cricket squaresWhere you had playedRolled the pitches where you ranFrom wicket to wicket in your whitesResponding to the call of “Yes”As you had been coachedYou set off promptlyWith all →
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Unholy water
Dolphins, porpoises and a whaleFrom time to timeExplore the riverUpstream to Canary WharfWould you go furtherKnowing how filthyOld Father Thames has become?Pity the sealsWho went further and made itAs far as RichmondWhere they liveHappy as pigs in our shit ~ n.b. Another fine mess brought to you as part of Thatcher’s Legacy, profit pursuing private →
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About Turn
you know how an old fox runs?a trot-trot-trotnose forward, tail out behindtrot-trot-trotwell, watch it stopdrop its tail-brush to the floorswing round and disappearwhen it’s seen someoneof whom it’s not suretrot-trot-trotnose forward, tail out behindit panics not a jotand off the old fox goestrot-trot-trot ~ CLP 25/03/2024 →
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blossom
the ornamental garden heavy with bloomsperfume strong enough to holda presence in the easterlybumble bees’ wings silentthey drink from deep cherry wellsnubs of pollen caught on their thighspetals brighten, whiten in sunlightflashing through the broken cloudyou crane your neck nestle your nosein a garland of petalsfresh enough to hold firmto buds from whence they sproutedwe →
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on truth
war’s first casualtythere can be no dishonouradmit: I don’t know ~ n.b. Another murderous attack on the innocent. Irrespective of nationality, religion, or politics, how can anyone profit from such intended slaughter? We can trust the body count, the bereaved families, the wounded to account for their losses, but who, or what else? This is →
Journey of Words 