A Witch-Clock Hour

A witch-clock hour,

A little more

Before dawnlight

Re-frames the pains.

I’m so, so alone

In the soul cave

Of a room with

A bed so achingly familiar

It’s confusingly strange.

Under the goblin-fluence

of dark-malice spirits

Thinking the world

Owes me an apology.


The Mask


I will put on

The gentle,



The hair, green mask;

Bear the silver saddle

Of crater thunder …

And I will

Ignore your arrogant


Your senseless


Your race without reason.


Powerless to speak,

Neither will I weep.


image: http://www.canarybeck.com

To Devour the Moon.

There is, apparently a legend that predicts

That, sometime soon, the lunatics,

Released from wasp-paper grey cells

Will endeavour to devour the orange-moon,

Swallow it whole, tear its

Changing face to tiny shreds, Continue reading

All Your Sleep

While they stretch and preen,

Sweat and strut-strut-stumble

My finger is taking memories –

Click by click –

I am mentally repackaging

Versions of history,

Stacking facts

Picking opinions

Filing options for posterity.

Or is this just my ego? Continue reading


I’m so tired,

Work’ll do that

To a body, a mind;

Perhaps my thinking’s

Not so straight

But this?

This is too brief,

Has been nowhere

Near enough.

Too short,

Too black and white,


No sweetness.


Of life,

Of space

Of tomorrows …

And this was

All it deserved?

This passing,

This new burden-old,

This one-more-time grief:

Intrusion, parasite opinion?

This savagery?

I’m so tired.