2012 Texts

the year barely decent
yet to potty-train
yet to train
rude and demanding
inarticulate and loud
infantile as the first smile
comes to my ear
as a prayer
2429.    3 Jan 2012 @ 0643

once upon a time
before I became a man
I was as beautiful as you
time's lathe had yet to turn me
into something eternally useful
and ugly
had to spoil the rough stone
2430.    3 Jan 2012 @ 0658

a boy who came first
won prizes
he who came after
why he also ran
my father came first
he reminded me
each second in minute detail
until at last I lost
2431.    5 Jan 2012 @ 1130

a poem opens a can
of words lines up a few
clich├ęs here and there for the
enjambment and bettered
croissant with cheesy petit
furs as aside
then rites it down
2432.    9 Jan 2012 @ 1009

bring me word
master of silence
of time before
time before I knew
ignorance is divine
knowing all cannot be
nothing further
than silence
is the first word
it is
2433.    15 Jan 2012 @ 1311

reflect the Atlantic
in the tern's eye how
the pupil masters
an ocean in its tear how
the orbit of my mind
circulates each ebb and flow
of tern and turn about
2434.    18 Jan 2012 @ 0654

the egyptian goose
is heavier than air and must
beat its tattoo to
the galley slave's drum
but the tern rises
to a zephyr's first kiss
and cannot wait on earth
2435.    18 Jan 2012 @ 0704

does the seal pup know
who watches
deep in thought
his shallow acrobatics
beneath the superficial sky
the subcutaneous sea
bitter as salt
stirs nothing but kelp
2436.    19 Jan 2012 @ 0643

sometimes I'm lighter than air
stars wave up at me
I smile
show my royal glove
swoop and whoosh higher
faster than a bullet
faster than superman
like a dreamer
2437.    21 Jan 2012 @ 1637

a poet is looking for his poem
lost in an attic which
would be dusty
as you'd expect
if it were virtually anywhere
else but it's not so
he only needs reminding
2438.    21 Jan 2012 @ 1646

I'm at the Galapagos stage
the neck goes first
surprise in the eye
then humping
the ungainly clash and jar
unsubtle in technique
inept scrabbling of hind legs
2439.    21 Jan 2012 @ 1714

the mountain is not lonely
in its solitude
it embraces the old monk
as the tide
washes my feet
an old homage lost
by the ages
to new gods and fears
and promises
2440.    26 Jan 2012 @ 0835

the garden awaits
the gardener awaits
the hills terrace like strategies
to mount a dragon
a flag flutters
a prayer to intercede
to some goddess
forgotten of men
2441.    27 Jan 2012 @ 0653

the old monk watches
the gardener potter
some she treats roughly
indignant mutters
others meet approval
soft smiles clucks
she turns to him
blows a perfect kiss
2442.    28 Jan 2012 @ 0953

a small boy and fishing rod
are memories of the present
I see him cast a long line
from this moment
on the rocks
across the sea to his past
returning to himself
2443.    2 Feb 2012 @ 1740

a small boy himself
hardly more than
his periwinkle baited rod
explores echoing caverns
of the tidal pool's horror
the anemone's grasp
drowns him like a kitten
2444.    2 Feb 2012 @ 1805

the hand written poem
inked in parker permanent
is not back spaced
spell checked
it smells
of time and space
a dab of your scent
to remind me
of contour paths
2445.    3 Feb 2012 @ 0951

a word paints ten thousand
pictures in my mind
as if a god had whispered
before when all stood
empty and alone
waiting for some cue
she said
let there be light
2446.    4 Feb 2012 @ 2125

the old monk has time left
though he knows nothing
more than nothing
he cannot count days
weeks each hour would break
a man's faith in prayer
god knows its time
2447.    9 Feb 2012 @ 1959

a small boy loves
fruit salad and his grandmother
as much as his mother maybe
not as much as the harbour
and his fishing boat dreams
always embraced
always his
2448.    11 Feb 2012 @ 0808

two small boys explore
the tidal pools
of their imaginations
the grey heron's sentry
crested egrets plod stiffly
I sit an old man on his bench
lost to childhood
2449.    19 Feb 2012 @ 0906

a rude plumber
all verticals and right angles
his leaden heritage
grunts and sweats
tiresomely all his
honour and toil yet
if he were poet
piping hot or brazen
2450.    19 Feb 2012 @ 0958

penny for your thoughts
o idle king
unravel this tapestry overnight
picks the scab
in her sleep
her fidelity his purpose holds
to sail into nights
2451.    20 Feb 2012 @ 1501

the poet finds no word left
unused among stars
nor unsaid in contemplation
all he seeks is your light
the touch of shadows
remembered at dawn
how you return me
2452.    26 Feb 2012 @ 1433

Venus and Jupiter hang on
the moon's ear
bloody as a severed poet's
the sun long set
the last surfer skinned
wearing his charm
like a currency
of last resort
2453.    27 Feb 2012 @ 0736

the old monk lives at twilight
each day marked
by sadness passing
the call to prayer his solace
he turns to me
without a word
god knows why
as the sun sets
2454.    27 Feb 2012 @ 0933

the moon gone Venus too
Jupiter god knows where
but the sun has not forgotten
turns up habitually
a bad penny day
and me here
listening to the sea
polish stone
2455.    2 Mar 2012 @ 0747

are words enough
to tilt the ear
to a poet's rage
will his sweetest whisper
uncover your fairest beauty
give voice to your throat's
fondest curve
and tongue
2456.    6 Mar 2012 @ 0822

man and dog
best friends forever so long
obedient his wagging tail
ever hopeful the next bone
best yet to come
accepts collar and cuff
takes rough with smooth
2457.    9 Mar 2012 @ 0755

a painter impresses
the gallery of opinion
the eyes have it parlez
vous in tongues of fire
preaching the conversion
of gentle men who speak
of tinkling cymbals
2458.    11 Mar 2012 @ 0921

the swimmer does not give
a damm for the imagined
slight as she is
dark waters contain no gloom
nor fear lurking nor searching
for some incidental
2459.    12 Mar 2012 @ 1004

the old monk knows
ears have walls
keep silent
in the presence of angels
less you mistake the poem
for the word
condemn to a lonely life
poets and lost men
2460.    13 Mar 2012 @ 0858

is there anything to be said
to the world needing more
than a text message
the old monk said
turning to watch the sun set
in silence
he smiled
2461.    15 Mar 2012 @ 1752

you are so beautiful
to me are words only
an angel at the level lake
knows the meaning of
on either side the heights
peaks and valley
poems are mountain streams
2462.    18 Mar 2012 @ 0933

am I myself
this shadow almost shade
reformed as a church
without knave or knout
cassocked in sackcloth opinion
worth a brass farthing
my silver spoon blackened
2463.    18 Mar 2012 @ 1828

once open cage becomes
curiosity rusts
inside and out
to more complex chemistry
hardly anybody visits
after dark the wind dies
the tide ebbs
the slow moon rises
2464.    11 Apr 2012 @ 0810

without the key
only the music beyond
is that her voice
from the walled garden
like some memory
of childhood coming
to mind like rain
beyond the pane
2465.    11 Apr 2012 @ 0816

to encage
to force in
to imprison
the last look
as the gate slams
and a world's hollow
is no longer opinion
the old monk returns
to his cell
opens a great book
2466.    12 Apr 2012 @ 0809

who hears the sweetest
whisper is touched
moves closer between
lines drawn
to connect her kiss
and she comes
she and herself
mountain breathless
him speechless
2467.    13 Apr 2012 @ 0825

the old monk's nightmare
fears light
light a candle
place it near that your angel
know to bring prayer
his advice to me
is sound in silence
lighten darkness
2468.    13 Apr 2012 @ 0837

An angel came to
my window and smiled.
I thought how much love
she carried so lightly on the wind.
But then I know love isn't
a burden. Love is light, not dark.
2469.    13 Apr 2012 @ 0846

passion is
was always
it listens
to the sea's voice songs
of mountain silences
then the first words come
branding your tongue poet
and Neruda's unexpectedly
2470.    14 Apr 2012 @ 0651

plantation like
no like deep forest
better ocean deep
some thought begun
by the long dead ancestor
incomplete yet
and you turn its facets
to the light renewed
2471.    14 Apr 2012 @ 0824

or palpitations
you earn like pennies
amassed to great fortune
an arsenal of daggers
the wit of old poets
who knew cynics
disarmed by their ego
or new comedies
2472.    14 Apr 2012 @ 0837

a poet sits at a tide's edge
pebbles kissed beyond counting
are her lips as perfect
worn so
as any grape on a dusty vine
though not succulent
and cold as death
2473.    15 Apr 2012 @ 1721

the voyage begins
in his mind there
he imagines romantic ports
under palms any Sunday
in paradise but he knows
his sturdy boat first must
sail big seas to her
2474.    18 Apr 2012 @ 1050

the old monk is no longer
pious and seldom
given to gestures often
he speaks in asides
to a listener apparently
not present his future
certain and him undecided
2475.    21 Apr 2012 @ 0829

sweet basil breathes deeply
as I do near tomatoes
somehow I know you
as intimately
had we consummated
a great vegetable lust
the fruit only we give
a fig about
2476.    21 Apr 2012 @ 2351

a sacred ibis is as close to god
as the old monk watching him
in a lengthy aside
uninhibited by understanding
the uninhabited coastline
is its own metaphor
2477.    22 Apr 2012 @ 0820

the uninhibited coastline
becomes metaphor
with the tide as I breathe
like the last simile
and patient as the heron
waiting too
to be found by a god
2478.    22 Apr 2012 @ 0842

is there inky black
or stoney stare
another writer scratching
metaphori in Neruda's yard
me feeling a bit of a dick
not metric but a yard
of ale and the choir
2479.    24 Apr 2012 @ 1958

Russian folk
are wind
taking steps
nobody knows why
it is the escape of reason
who makes his way
endlessly always lost
always believing
fuck the evidence
2480.    24 Apr 2012 @ 2008

the old monk counts
pebbles each day
do they represent
time and place
the faceless army
O Julius divine
waiting ever your coming
over the mountains
by the sea
2481.    26 Apr 2012 @ 1844

the herb garden tender
as sweet basil
the wooden bench an altar
the old monk sits
there listening amused
among the starling tribe
who quarrel
over crumbs
2482.    27 Apr 2012 @ 1040

is forgiveness sentiment
aground in the sediment
of well-rehearsed prayer
an exercise to appease
the loose tongue of intent
without troubling
any inner truth
2483.    29 Apr 2012 @ 1035

only the rain never tires Ted
wrote but sweet basil
keeps the herb gardener
occupied and unguarded
feels her tomatoes ripen
soon she'll prepare him
herself too
2484.    4 May 2012 @ 0603

on the other hand are women
and mountains to challenge
one or another
and yet
he could be at a loss
at the barest minimum
if he refused to take a hike
2485.    10 May 2012 @ 1652

by contrast the poet
no longer edits the livid
pretending instead
to cool
syllable and romance
his little house tethered
to the unwavering shore
hopefully still
2486.    10 May 2012 @ 1704

the poet clothes her body
with threads barely seen
each an exquisite syllable
tongued and lipped
until at last she reveals
a fabric undressed
in subtlest hues
2487.    12 May 2012 @ 0930

the old monk cannot measure
horizons which are
not what they seem
to him god is
there seen
if only to grasp
as adam's finger
did and feel
a world turn himself
2488.    12 May 2012 @ 0944

in her language each
high place is a mountain
where she winters
each year
spring blooms
and we speak in tongues
each wanting to taste
music in the other's mouth
2489.    12 May 2012 @ 1000

who has his way with her
words speechless
unsaid unintended from god
knows who
poetry one would say
by its meaningless coupling
between the lines
and elsewhere
2490.    12 May 2012 @ 1027

who would cage a poet
in the countryside
of his misgivings
leaving him in solitary
self less a man
the last aria sung contralto
and him with half an ear left
2491.    12 May 2012 @ 1047

I sit here in the morning
light thinking how
we came to this place
of longing
there is nothing
I cannot embrace
so I write a little poem
a wrinkle in the fabric
2492.    12 May 2012 @ 1058

would a friend tire of this
the aroma of fine coffee
van morrison testing the air
under the old milkwoods
and the sea framed
here too
thinking how I miss you
2493.    12 May 2012 @ 1106

it is not yet light
enough to see the horizon
I am not near
enough to see you
I know you are there
ever true
a compass to encompass me
to find my ways to you
2494.    13 May 2012 @ 0730

a poet fears herself
that part that is hers alone
and her breasts are small
she says as if a measure of her
but he hears a herb gardener
planting words in him
2495.    13 May 2012 @ 0750

the old monk no longer
makes lists
his priorities no longer
have order
or result
instead he listens
to silence
which contains all music
sometimes he hums along
2496.    14 May 2012 @ 0917

this distance defines me
my horizon at your cliff
looking down
the peaks behind in waiting
moaning in the chill wind
sad as spinsters
and this bunk
2497.    23 May 2012 @ 0752

how the west coast marks me
emphatic horizon ends
all frontiers are the reef
beyond flowered shores
each shell beached
an agony
waiting accounting
my misgivings
2498.    23 May 2012 @ 1346

the man's single large eye
green as a cat's glows
befriends me
he knows everything
about me stuff
I don't myself
he wants nothing so far
I can tell this moment
2499.    23 May 2012 @ 1417

what anger hides here
in this magazine
smelling of roses
faithful as cordite fused
some umbilical crackling
back to mother
about to break open
its sutures ooze
2500.    24 May 2012 @ 0705

am I once again faithless
some tartar fury
in spite and innocence
takes my name in vain
her vanity mirrors
she asks the wall
I have become
its gate bars gods
2501.    24 May 2012 @ 0717

reader of despair
forgive this indecent hour
me still
and the day restless
licking the salted wound
not allowing the scab
like some bitch
I should have muzzled
2502.    24 May 2012 @ 0727

language etched by history's
blade turned to filings
cut and raw still
syllables whip
poets fellate mike
swallow each word
slop slop rhyme
punch drunk and high
2503.    10 June  2012 @ 0959

this is the time before
the cock crows
the priest narrow in his bunk
hardens his view
stiffens his neck for the blow
mumbles something rosy
counts and sweats
2504.    11 June 2012 @ 0800

the sublime sea
is unknowing depth
and knowing drowning
when I swim in its embrace
I fear nothing
as if floating
in the womb of wisdoms
2505.    17 June 2012 @ 2308

in the light of this
a new man takes steps
it is surely metaphor
that the journey is long
he falls
his will
drinks the air
he listens
understanding nought
2506.    21 June 2012 @ 0857

Fred and Farah shake hands
as often as possible
these glorious mornings
well before anybody's up
even the birds and bees
haven't pulled
themselves together
2507.    22 June 2012 @ 1704

there is no rain in my heart
nor dull season
winter is but
your light warms
my world
as I stand
at the coast
of this voyage to find you
give over this key
2508.    26 June 2012 @ 0707

I burn here
by a winter sea
and the snake's head
you uppermost
in thoughts of Fred and Farah
their dialogue
coming to reconciliation
satisfying our smiles
2509.    29 June 2012 @ 0705

a man descends
the up-escalator
lifts his feet
as a climber
better to purchase foothold
against rising ground
is surely as daft as we
expecting the immanent
2510.    5 July 2012 @ 1402

when I enter your space
and climb your mountain top
the detractors view us from below
that plateau mediocre
at our feet without poetry
they howl like bitches
2511.    12 July 2012

when our passion spills and overflows
the valley of the shadows
we hear the song of the knotted stream
and we drink there our fill
and we laugh
in our nakedness
2512.    12 July 2012

when you smile the magic carpet
carries me to the high place
where time is memory
in making and light is
kaleidoscope of song
kisses of the children we are
2513.    12 July 2012

the city bowl breakfasts
as the last star dissolves
in litmus light
to applause and chatter finch
who sits here with the umbilical
dream while the Cape snores
2514.    19 July 2012

the old monk and rain
make a Susan-Boyle day
snug in the pub
dark and stout as warriors
chanting old melodies
those prayers still
ancestors in the high country
2515.    21 July 2012

the poet knows nothing
of virgin or ogre
pastures or mountain
he knows the old monk slightly
they have shared silences
and wisdoms all
with her fire and ice
2516.    22 July 2012

we examine the nature of longing
but not as poets do
having ear to rhyme
but as demented clerks
deep in some vault
lit by neon
treasure everywhere
counting days
2517.    2 August 2012

when the priest said
there is no other way
Dante prayed
in the light
and darkness entered stones
about the well of compassion
having no depth
he could see
2518.    5 August 2012 @ 2110

a second hand is punctual
arrives and departs
in equal measure
moved and trained
sinking into another
terminal state
a funicular morality
stitched to an angle
2519.    21 August 2012 @ 0818

Heidi rides her mountain
bike without mercy
sinks principle and platitude
she peaks too soon
under an agnostic cliff
still a maiden she smiles
under an old monk
2520.    21 August 2012 @ 1154

the old folk song
is country lane familiar
her face a city mapped
with lakes and tears
her teeth monuments
to the comedy still playing
to a theatre of pavements
2521.    6 October 2012 @ 1957

crow turns ploughed sod
gesture enacted
more in repetition than habit
always blind faith
egged on by hope
fed a thin gruel
as the season turns
in on itself
2522.    7 October 2012 @ 1815

when his cheek is kissed
by cold earth
warmth drained
into history's strata
geology of a short life
her god particular
predicts him in Geneva
scheduled to burn
2523.    8 October 2012 @ 1223

already England is sepia
autumn skinny as a shy boy
its snotty nose blowing
the house down
mud thick as gravy
on every menu
the steady drip
wet dog odours
2524.    9 October 2012 @ 1101

come dance with the west wind
how he carves the air
with his laughter
how he dances naked
with abandon
how he calls you too
also naked
to dance like the wind
2525.    10 October 2012 @ 1507

the undefeated countryside
black and bandaged
pocked history and churches
the toll a poetry of forgetting
flagged and foot-noted
brass-rubbed by font and knave
2526.    11 October 2012 @ 1125

time’s cogs and levers
ratchet each season’s
fall from grace
as a plane leaf
tumbles into the river’s urge
across the water
a kestrel floats
on a winter wind
2527.    18 October 2012 @ 1739

Giacometti trees scaffold the forest
dreams winter here
shackled to promises
I write of the fall
in another world the gardener
kisses earth in her nakedness
2528.    24 October 2012 @ 1756

young snow knows no melody
but dances in silence
it mimes cherry blossom
when all the world’s weary
but the light is bright
and a heart’s song
listens to winter
2529.    29 October 2012 @ 1858

snow so ancient
it cannot remember its fall
only ice measures the seasons
of its depth

snow so old
the glacier scores pavements
no busker ever frets
2530.    30 October 2012 @ 1226

the country redresses itself
in blue and black and grey
to accommodate the season
outside opinion is undivided
on issues of climate
each covering up in case
2531.    31 October 2012 @ 1735

each flake shed
as a lover shreds the letter
blizzard’s message
onto the street
no tear so beautiful
on her cheek
so cold in the morning dark
no grave so alone
2532.    1 November 2012 @ 1727

the praise singer stamps
his authority on the shore
calls to the sea
the sea is preoccupied
in its passion too
this Sunday morning
the church asleep as linen
2533.    4 November 2012 @ 0709

the old monk returns to the sea
he removes his boots barefooted
enters the sea engulfs him
still he wades is seen no more
only his silences remain
2534.    4 November 2012 @ 1031

the old monk cannot decipher
pebbles that shingle the Atlantic
though meaning is implicit
in the sea’s shuffling
is it silence
and absence
and other peace given
2535.    4 November 2012 @ 1854

who knows the meaning of flowers
the gardener
who knows the flowers of meaning
the poet
this morning the poet dreams the paradox
now the paradox awaits the poet
2536.    5 November 2012 @ 0743

the gardener bends over a seedling
she plants him gently
nourishing him enough
to stand alone a man
he does not know this
believes he is himself
a hardy annual
2537.    6 November 2012 @ 0704

the lighthouse cannot know
her name she whose ankle
carries a step I cannot take
the lighthouse knows
the vision it gives
to those also lost
in the sea’s bosom
2538.    9 November 2012 @ 1135

his face turned in sleep
to the earth seeking
peace or seclusion
not knowing which
the poet feeling for her
her name unnamed
gropes emptiness
awakens himself
2539.    12 November 2012 @ 1354

at sea
the hammocks sway
like the pod breathing
under the bows
lighting the eyes of the watch
each bell counts
the way the course is set
from the compass rose
2540.    13 November 2012 @ 2216

gulls rend the corrugated air
themselves torn to shreds
flutter to ground broken
still the shriek of torn metal
as if scrap dealers now
cut deals with road rage
2541.    14 November 2012 @ 0834

which moment unlocks
wave and wing
sinew of wave
flow of wing
how little cries
delight despair
marry these elements
to my ear here
looking inside out
2542.    19 November 2012 @ 0755

this wind is not animate
that it cannot rest nor I
it is no more a poem
nor the breath of a deity
than I
who ruffles the sea
with impunity
knows little of depth
2543.    30 November 2012 @ 0812

the sun sets
like a photograph
a poem lit from within
by a poet as jealous as God
soon night follows
its disciples are stars
later the poet wakes
writes it down
2544.    1 December 2012 @ 2245

no occasion occupies this bed
the night is old
worn out
its mattress needy
and yet now
this hour a chorus
beyond the pane
enlightens this
sleeping dog’s unrest
2545.    5 December 2012 @ 0515

I love the herd
iphone collared
connected to this
benevolent society
never face to face
always in touch
never touching
blow by blow
virtually real
enough said
2546.    7 December 2012 @ 1013

the sea is corrugated blue
here there
also gunmetal in the light
but another sound
a pair of cymbals make
before the strings resume
cello poised
the winds still
2547.    8 December 2012 @ 0834

here mind encounters wind
malice in practice unprincipled
this morning subdued still
a small boat hazards surf
turns about in its teeth
unsure of itself too
2548.    14 December 2012 @ 0849

deep within you is the mountain
you climb
often when you describe it
a poem appears a winter stream
dark cold clear
it refreshes like no other
that has its music
2549.    14 December 2012

I wonder that I'm already dead
that you and I are spirits
searching for words
as the sun sets
unsure what it means
do colours tell
how I miss you
2550.    14 December 2012

the ketchup of bad manners
is the poodle slopping
its master's plate
standing on the next table
bare arsed
and him tucking
into the dish of calamari
with relish
2551.    14 December 2012

my jewel is magic
naked truth revealed
under thin skinned
words clean breasted
in the tongues of man
and of angels
each face I reflect
in small verse
so lit
2552.    16 December 2012

Venus is barely visible
above the heart of a bay
not false
this childish place
in good odour
no train out of here yet
I see a jet taking off
a young dawn's robe
2553.    18 December 2012

a woman counts her assets
the Maginot of fortification
and position
turrets facing north
poised for the assault
she lights up
her main weapons
achtung achtung
2554.    19 December 2012

the world ended unnoticed
new modern monochrome
don't much like it
faces arse about
tinsel titless here
incontinent dark
cold as wet porridge
cloud rankled
2555.    22 December 2012

poetry cannot find me here
tongue dry
eyes wet
unwelcome as rain
across the valley
no birds sing
only mournful bells toll
this parting day
shabby and littered
2556.    24 December 2012

yet this ebbed date
is fruit to another season
already soiled as advertised
with winning smile
and shallow seas
posture couched
the remote close
and pressing
2557.    24 December 2012

only evergreens don't look back
for the rest
Giacometti is gardener
soaked to the skin and oblivious
he hears crows caw
tomorrow he'll recall
nothing of this
2558.    24 December 2012

here the country cannot
hear town or traffic
the gutter drips in a dialect
that inhales years and weathers
even the stream boundering
Christ like
washes feet
2559.    24 December 2012

love's dark matter
knows the unseen unsaid
calculates old science
lost or burned like best books
the reader too dead and buried
yet ever hopeful
ever starred
2560.    24 December 2012

a low sun looks over the graveyard
of winter the west wind cold
the children wrapped like
unopened Christmas parcels
demanding sweetness and light
and warmth
2561.    30 December 2012