Tuesday, 29 August 2017

Lizard Dream

in lizard sleep

your skin 
turns pewter
your blood

all the sounds around you

the caw of the jackdaw
the wind in the leaves
of the magnolia trees

the silent trumpet
the gramophone horn
white convolvulus 

the sounds bound for an ear
that hears the music of a bubble
the tremor of a cat’s whisker

hears the colour of dreams

Wednesday, 23 August 2017

In The Catacombs

In catacombs of honey cells
the drip and ooze of hexagons
and the moon bridge crosses
streams full of stars.

In the glowworm depths of hedgerows
I travel south of reason. 

The heart navigates where the moon makes mirrors.

Tall trees and momentary indecisions
wind whispers through the leaves -
a ragged wind 
and the weather vane 
set against silver.

I am like a man 
who has missed the last train home.

I follow a light up ahead where a fragment
of summer sky splits the night.

Silver letters shine on a sign -

I have been this way a thousand times before
even though the path isn’t where I left it.

Night forks, orange flames
the sky fills with black butterflies
and it is like looking in the mirror tilted -
nothing quite corresponds, the distance 
between memory and reality.

White roses at the tomb of the unknown farmer
where son predeceases father.

The red fox runs the shadows 
of the hill, barns and farms 
on distant hillsides 

I wonder if I should go back to the beginning -
start all over again.

A ghost turns my pages
keen to read a story that hasn’t been written.

I try to keep up although the pen
has a mind of its own and won’t be rushed.

And what if I could? Write the end
and tell the tale in reverse?

Streams full of stars
bridges on the moon
drip and ooze of hexagons

in the catacombs of honey cells


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)


Bunchgrass Press

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