Verse

41_4

Two Poems

On my back I carried the coffin in which my father lay. / Bent low by its weight, I staggered forward step by step. / My pace slowed, the burden was too great, it was beyond / me.
fd40_04-10-25

Understudy

1 The land’s forever making noise of rise and fall, the grand parabola. But must it always paraphrase? The moon can’t blink its shining cornea toward t... Read more
fd40_04-10-28

Superposition and Collapse

I drop it at the bus stop, not drunk, I don’t think, just cack-handed and carrying too much tat. Face-down beside the kerb, it looks unbroken. I could leave it there, like Schrödinger’s famous cat, the damage quantum, both smashed and not-smas... Read more
fd40_04-10-30

Pulpo

In the supermarket upturned octopuses lie on stones of ice as on a cold beach or an operating table. Obscene, as they should be with their legs splayed, thei... Read more
fivedials_no27-17

Variations on Anne

If the poem is an enigma. If the poem does not offer a solution. If the solution does exist and someone calls out that you must find it. If that someone is y... Read more
fivedials_no36-4

Death of the Birch-tree

'Lean is the dull steel flashed white in the sun / Like a sudden lifting of the white-leaved abele, / Flushed from the raw thongs of the birch-tree / The white wood flies through the mists of morning.'
fivedials_no32-14

Hospitality

'My mordant friend told me the story of / the woman he loved in youth in Oxford /who had, he said, "a hospitable cunt".'