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Woman from the town
Woman from the town Last house row of three Baxter Street Leased for years, Elise the landlord Is divorced and living overseas, happy To have it occupied and making piece; House like that not bad not great, nice little earner, No boast to it nor toast at signing but free of mother, Like Turner mollycoddled…
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GrowingUpIHad
Mother bore but never bored me Sour milk and scant honey with scorned bees informed me early That Gods queer-paletted are all quips and malice, surly Since the age of two I frowned before a smile I knew.
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Light on the water at night
A crocus bulb of wave-striated light guttered on the water like the last of Greek fire, Idiot child moon sick after gorging Vomiting madness, ghost light, and powerful waves, Werewolves.
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Elegy for Lower Orders
Yet elegies for lower orders orbis terrarum great appearing great when kneeling Suddenly grand rising, Easter morning the shelling ships Sackville Street sacking Strangling by redcoats, seething conscripts and worse the hating citizenry spat Constitutions grim the noble sacrificants. Votive selves, teachers poets oath takers Shot firers and by proxy letter burners, ran down ruined…
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Little Blind One Of The Grass
Feeling your way along well enough For the circling hawk like a ceiling fan At the roots of things, stoving clod, sleeves Itself into mud, swims bog and mire with ease Wading above waiting hawk wanton gold-feet Blind as lime-drowned Tommy your touch balances Supremely tactile, paw eyes and nose ears, taste of noise Swooping…
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Alchemisland 