Call me cold blooded

When the sea shows its claws  ~ I’ll lay like a lava rock, my ~ Back to its sulphurous hiss, ~ Unmoved by its attention-seeking pounce. ~ When the wind sighs in drones of plea ~ I’ll lie with the others of my kind, ~ in a hot pit to bask ~ Hardening my spine... Continue Reading →


When your boot weighs as much as a baby ~ the long tailed tit seems weightless ~ Kissing the sky with its teaser lips ~ to scoop, under a perch with pastry fork feet ~ It adds no weight to the world at all! ~ In fact, somehow, a weight parts ~ Like the sooty... Continue Reading →

Hyena Child?

I lean over the scratched out windowsill you ~ Fell from ~ Tumbling spirit? ~ Alone ~ Fighting the net of my dream ~ But I think you’re fearless now ~ A roaming beast, ~ Or boy turned wild, hyena child? ~ While here I am ~ Sore in the nest ~ Soothing the marks... Continue Reading →

Red kite

The red kite whirs in the heights ~ of a famished sky ~ Tilting the rake of its wing, glaring ~ to meet me with eclipsing eye.

Winter Visitor

As cold bones creak, the pine trees lean for a Breath, in torrents of wind - huffing - rushing down the stack to Grind the  timbered teeth of the station deck, Clenched as the nudging bones in those dead-flat cheeks. Flint stricken and dumb, The skeleton hands of the clock strike on and on, in... Continue Reading →

White over wash

It’s winter, and we’re reading,~ You in a sofa corner,~ Me out here on the frozen wash~ water Wobbling at the rims of my eyes,~ Yours reflecting off a cool, dark screen..~ I blink to see in watercolour,~ Brushing print to faintest grey~ When 2 whoopers enhance the page~ Rising, runny white, bleeding~ and sort... Continue Reading →


A sanderling’s feet make the hands on this watch, seem~ idle.~ They wind up the shore as the sea shows its fist, then~ pitter back down when it drags it back in~ And each time they race for a worm in the~ ground~ You wonder:~ Do they know that the hand always comes back around?


In the morning, ~ Sunlight turns the dew of night ~ into stars that jingle bright. ~ In the morning, ~ Bracken rolls its duvet down ~ when the sky reveals its crown ~ turning air blood-orange fresh ~ rousing souls in Beastie’s breath.

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑