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Silent Amerika
collects church spires with her withered arm she has three to date such are the mysteries of the triangle unlike others she has no interest in games of spheres on natural slopes this is not her passion in the trees next to the warehouse a camera lies hidden in the branches she cleans the lens […]
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The Shadow Fathers
The warm skies have covered the complexion of this day and have celebrated its wilderness. The high grass will send unseen messages to our fathers in the shadows. For only they have clothed the innocent . This poem was written after witnessing the release of ashes on the Westbury White Horse on a […]
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The Garden Party
The Gathering The brimstone comma dipped its orange tipped pen into the holly blue ink and wrote to the painted lady. Outside a peacock wailed as it welcomed the red admiral in his carriage. As it passed a tree a stray branch removed one of the small copper handles which fell silently into the dust. […]
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Cold Chance Heaven
If you look at the new moons through the winter of trees they shatter Do count the fragments before they fade
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Notes from Chesil
The Monitor Stone At high tide a black flag hid the monitor stone This brought distress to my family but not to me Education of a Fly Stay still my glamorous scholars learning is a slow art A Long Romance I shall write you divided letters as the shingle dictates my pace I will describe […]
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Cactus
If I am shameless Then I shall fade I do not exploit the darkness Nobody can Poets are shameless with their experiences :They exploit them Nietzsche 1977
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In Memory of the Sea
You lay there Gravel raised With the cold lips Of your dead smile Awaiting a saline breath Whilst your eyes Wonder at the map Of the heavens As you are entombed On this distant shore. A poem written in Torcross ,South Devon about a dead fish found high on the beach. […]
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Into the Void
As a man in the clean clouds searches for his gold The lost in their hell clothes deliver his perfumed rope. A man hid and lost his gold and whilst searching for the metal found a rope which he later used to hang himself. (Att Plato) SMO 1983
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EssoEsso
At night when my thoughts are in recession I hear the bright music of your forecourts and sense the quiet terrors of your history
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The Moth
The Thief In the sweetness of your palm You have grasped the bitterness Of your folly. The Idiot Girl My idiot child You shall never desire Your future nights. The Good Man Why did you embrace death With no refusal What kingdoms were promised ? The Moth Oh slight creature You will fly into the […]