Blue water and blue fibreglass reflect the sun. Salt and cinnamon grease our battered skin and pumpkin flesh. Still-damp costumes chill our nipples and trace wide outlines of our arses on the lounge. I have the Jack of Diamonds. It’s my left bower. I shuffle my suits to suit this new addition. The breeze is … Continue reading
The Darker Continent Sestina for Elizabeth Bishop Step off the pier and into the unknown, flushed from the balmy cabin, out of breath, piqued by dreams of a feathered samba dance, your heart is like a squirrel in a cage, preparing eagerly to test the dark: the frontier you imagined ‘cross the sea. What drove … Continue reading
I am shadow I demarcate one blade of grass from its brother and unite objects together on the wall hat-stand couch- corner pot-plant I make shape out of line and frame form I follow and lead I am shadow black bird in water twin in air I take flights of fancy that cost nothing It … Continue reading
Sometimes heart or head leads you by the hand on hill walks To the sudden sparkle of water seen through trees metallic glint of shot silk and silver To the serene surface of one-of-three dams and the ducks held tight by the water’s skin pulling at its seam pleating its calm dragging the thin top … Continue reading
Funny how a yawn travels through a room a pied piper gathering all the rats In that instant we all draw from the same source a great swallowed gasp shoved into our lungs like socks stuffed in a bag and the long outward sigh That we try to hide it up our sleeves makes us … Continue reading
Many things have a grain best not to go against Even slicing ginger we come across it the fibrous root close enough in this way to its woody neighbour oak or pine An anchovy can be slid along the tongue only in one direction without the salty bristles catching A dog, a fish, a man’s … Continue reading
As wave is driven by wave And each, pursued, pursues the wave ahead, So time flies on and follows, flies, and follows, Always, for ever and new. What was before Is left behind; what never was is now; And every passing moment is renewed. As I was walking yesterday, these autumn leaves scattered on the … Continue reading
How the Dusk Portions Time Then one evening, after the gallery, hung with invisible abstracts, you take me apart to flesh the miniatures: a fleck of craquelure, speckles of mascara from my shadow eyes, already panda-streaked. I fail to notice how you slip the pieces in your coat pocket. Distracted as I am by wolf … Continue reading
Dying to Meet You for Aravind Adiga Maybe it wasn’t deferred by the hardness of rain, my lack of sincerity, your lover, an unfinished book, a hangover; the cigarettes I didn’t smoke to save my lungs. I wasn’t breathless last night. I dreamt an email I opened from a publisher wishing me well was an … Continue reading
Laksmī under Oath I left my footprints on the threshold of ancient temples, pointing inwards, like the flow of fortune. In 200 BC, well-intentioned seers fashioned me, etched in bronze on lintels, the gateways to the city. The land was barren, a salt marsh where Indra slayed a three-headed fiend, pole stars drifting and rivers … Continue reading
The Photographer’s Light All the petals scatter in the folding light. The road before me has its own emissary. Tree branches bow to changed weather, this afternoon they were sunset’s veins. Birds lash the dark, dissolving sky, make a scene of leaving where something like dying is not the reverse of memory. The future’s rank … Continue reading
The Last Man in Pompeii Imagine now the last man in Pompeii. Though there were many, one will more than serve to hold the many in a stable shape, if poetry has more in it of truth than history, than all the catalogues of ancient flourishing: the olive groves, their number and their yield of … Continue reading
Where I Am Not I like to walk in thought where I am not: Rain in the valley where no footprints press The soil with heavy tread of humanness; The stream that flows like blood, without the clot Of self demanding to be set apart. I like to think of things bereft of thought, Of … Continue reading
Yiddish Songs A sober dawn will turn from the Sturm und Drang Of New Year’s Eve; the crush of bodies lit With spotlights on the Rynek. Snowflakes hang Like Christmas decorations, delicate And almost plastic, waiting to be wrapped In plain brown paper. The fiery spirit Of intoxicated breath hovers, trapped In a frozen maze … Continue reading
Distant Orchards We must look forward also to the springtime of the body. Minucius Felix In distant orchards green cicadas hum; Their wings are folded in a brittle prayer. When will the springtime of the body come? Can you not hear the blind guitarist strum Songs on the hollow body of despair? In distant orchards … Continue reading
Syrian Desert I walk off alone through the hot winds that flap my clothes like the broken sail of a dhow beaten by storms on the Red Sea, across the ochre sands and scattered rocks and past the caves where desert fathers once dwelled and prayed. My eyes settle before the calm expanse, trace the … Continue reading
Flamenco Trio Granada An old man sits at the rear of a dusky cavern, dressed in a suit and hot pink tie. He listens intently to the dexterous fingerwork of the young guitarist on his left, mining with his ears for something that might appear behind the notes. Every now and then he claps and … Continue reading
Band of Cockatoos The white of their plumage seems a bit too white like the polished teeth of salesmen or the glare of the sheet on which I jot these observations though they remind me of children as they quietly collect twigs and leaves from around the path. Now and then they reveal the wattle … Continue reading
Augury? Samothraki, Greece for Jakob Ziguras 1 I’m not sure if I’m following a trail left by goats or on the human path as I attempt to circumvent the farmstead where, the last time I came near, a dog pursued me, snapping and snarling. Noticing the piles of rusting junk dispersed around the place … Continue reading
Poem and Dish 