A gap in the hedge where briars are looping downward under the weight of grape-like clusters of fat juicy blackberries ‒ squelching cattle-trodden paths lead onward to fresh, green, larder-like half-acres of lush shining grass ‒ choked with cloud and birdsong sweet with plenty, among stirrings in the leaf-litter, momentary alarms; I step, sinking in wellingtons in the dung-gummed earth, into a triangular field green as the previous, as secluded within its sycamore, blackthorn and elder confines. I stop as I would passing into a new room and know I can walk the whole country, east to w ..read more

  Life Long Still: my once loved is standing there as though left out in the rain and waiting to be brought in, ever-present, a hologram at the end of the garden. Still: my once loved is standing there as though left out in the rain and waiting to be brought in, ever-present, a hologram at the end of the garden. Still, and the years have rolled, I have held her there ..read more

   Inured to the inhumanity displayed in times of war, here is a horrific example of the depths we are capable of descending to. Historic it may be, but there is no real indication that anything has improved; the genes haven't changed, only the arenas in which our basest inclinations play out.   ..read more

Miley twerks, Marilyn gathering in her dress, a galaxy of stars gathered around Bradley, a sailor kisses a woman in Times Square, 5 soldiers raise a flag at Iwo Jima, Einstein sticks out his tongue, a child face down dead on a Turkish beach ..read more

  Michelangelo might have carved the wrinkles on his forehead, veins on the backs of his hands, the fingers slender in death, knuckles, fingernails, lids shut over spiritless eyes. The rosary trickling down from his fingers is an intrusion; no renaissance here, Dad is a statue now ..read more

  What you’ve never grasped is your days are flying loose, pages in the wind, and you busy about filling them, never catching them. Happiness is  sunlight on the pages; it flies with the days ..read more

  All of that twentieth century history went in, piled up; from childhood, it stacked: the cold war, Bay of Pigs, coup d’etats, dictators, famines, invasions, Vietnam, Congo, Falklands, Belfast, Kosovo; treaties, broken treaties, military exercises, nuclear arsenals, on and on and we got wise and understood that nations are hungry and savage; there were always answers and we knew them from a young age. And the great page turned, twentieth to twenty first: still they came: Darfur, Somalia, Yemen, Afghanistan, invasions, piracy, terrorist attacks, revolutions until we know nothing, and the ..read more

Trump's recent 'bloodbath' comment continues his pattern of being incendiary. This (not so delicately embedded in his speech-making) stoking of violence, the self-cultivated  image of his own greatness, his demanding of loyalty to himself, the outrageous claims of his abilities to rid the world of ongoing problems, his narcissism are all so reminiscent of other dictators. Add that to his fondness of autocrats: my question is how, with all the knowledge of history available to us, do we allow presidents, the people with the greatest potential to do damage, to act outside the checks and bal ..read more

  Young beauty settled on your face, extended its wings a moment, then flew. The skin over your bones slackened, took the shape of your humours; there was no concealing. Finally, life, like traffic over the snow-white landscape of beauty, is your billboard to the world ..read more

This poem has been with me for years in one shape or another. I've posted more than one effort in the  past, but was never convinced. All versions go on display, but, like a photographer's work, there'll always be one photograph that has the edge; I think this has the atmosphere I've been searching for. There's a good chance I won't look back at this for a while in case I meet disappointment. Come another book though, I'll have to weigh it up. Behind the Glass Every day, sitting at her window, looking out onto the street of her life, empty now. Her face, just her face, hanging behind ..read more