Saturday, 20 May 2017

Night Visitors

Photo: Su Joy

I neglected to move a pile a timber left over from our building project. I'm so glad that I did. These delightful creatures, sadly in serious decline, raid the cat bowl at around 11:30 every evening. The other night there were three of them. Some nights they share the bowl with the cats - completely ignoring each other.

Sunday, 14 May 2017

Ouija

terra
Earth
cotta 
colour

earth colour - and the house, all at sea…

light
black

light and shadow

seen through a filter, green and yellow

and is this the place where you are now?


The idea of you, you being nowhere
absurd, absurd

song in the wind, song of the bird
for as long as it lasts, the fleeting moment
in which you are now here


If I could imagine such a place
a place for you

then this would be 
the place

the sea at sixty - blue, granular

fractures of light
  beam 
down

I think you are here
your signal 
breaks through

I have imagined, 
we have imagined 


such a place

Monday, 8 May 2017

Hazel, A303

We pass this way once more. It happens once
or maybe every other year, 
take to the low road that leads into the West
and at the place between solid castle and pliant hazel
the verge undulates, trees strobe by the windows.
Hazel… Z & L, the sought for glimpse
of the terracotta cottage where you wore wisdom
like a man wears a hat, you - slender like hazel
carrying knowledge, knowledge of the small things -
the shadow of the nightjar, the impress of the deer hoof 
like teardrops in the mud 
carried knowledge like a staff
the shape of the earth 
and the forked twigs
like diviners that twitch
at the source, the sweet kernel
encased in a shell
shaded in the colour that heals.

Tuesday, 2 May 2017

The Time Is

I haven’t seen a watch or clock in so long
I’m not sure I know how to tell
the time anymore. Just snow,
feathers of snow, snow the enhancer,
sound muffler, absorber
and the green sighs of the pines
hollow stalks, pebbles 
some the colour of copper
others white as bones.

Wednesday, 26 April 2017

Talisman

A plastic Frida Khalo Day of the Dead skull
with a gold chain drilled into the cranium
that threads two silver keys.
The crimson grin of teeth although
the powder blue's worn through -
leaves traces around the jaw, worn
away from years of locking and unlocking
and sometimes the skull, bone once more
rests in the pocket to be reached for –now and then, 
a worry bead, a talisman.

Two can lead each other astray.
An idea can catch fire
or turn into a mirror.

And the island in the arms of the mainland
freezes in the pulse of ultramarine water.
More of a rock, really - with pebbles like eggs
and grey-green sand on the landing shore.

A zig-zag of steps,
the island rises
black rock, 
bracken,
scree.

Here is the skull, 
here is the key.

Pages

Morlock Oil

Morlock Oil
A new collection of stories available now . Click on image for details.

The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery

The Quest Of Great Celtic Mystery
New Chapbook Available (email rockinahill@gmail.com for details)

Furrow

Furrow
Bunchgrass Press