Settled in water, we shape, and beneath candlelit sheet of perfume, we steam hips, ribs, spine and shins with no space between. I write you as reflections in chrome. * Of the Ouse, the Tyne, the Wear, we weave slow-flowing poems of their cool streams - We threshold their bridges, seek margins unseen: I write … Continue reading Reflections In Chrome.
The magi appeared from imagination, stepping from the between to the in-between. Stepping Greenwich Mean Time. Onto the moon, stepping. Stones on water, stepping. Heel to toe, stepping. Fancy footwork! Stepping.
January 21st 2007 (M25) The M25 is, as I have suspected for some time, more than just a motorway that encircles London and the surrounding suburbs: it is a dark magic that ensnares. It cannot be coincidence that once beyond its grasp the air becomes breathable; the sky, bigger; the scenery, vibrant - so vivid, … Continue reading Notes From a Fragile Island. 12
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