A small blue hush across the Old West

Tracks load down into dirt track

where wild eyed poets scream and laugh

of the darkness the love to dance in.

Fragmented pigeons ignore give way

            signs to reach their third heaven

lines of human traffic run along

pads polite as downhill penguins

keeping heads bowed away from connecting eyes

>   THE MELODY I KNEW ...

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Footsteps tread a deadly underworld,

My name is Melissa; dark syllabic wine my

            addiction of choice

Lyrical ecstasy exploding emotions

On a wet dark night the pyjama poets

            circle and talk of death to all men

You can never be truly free, unless

            trapped in a lift

Last time I went to Middlewood way, we got stuck

            ...

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That wet stuff brought tidings of God

A single magpie on a fence post

scared to face the past

Says "Knowing you has emptied my heart"

Laptops cannot but wander

Further than we can

Should I stay or should I go

stuck between two worlds one stop

back or one step Forward stuck.

I stay with unsure which to go.

One afternoon the train

Stopped between ...

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Moths climbing from heavy velvet

Will it snow tonight in Stockport, Aberdeen or Cornwall?

From an ancient marriage cake he inhales every fragment

of deceit

And so Goretti comes to bear....

Time travelling to find the words are hidden in an letter sealed 

before I started out

addressed to Phillip Larkin, still unable to get the sound 

of the tapping snow out of my head

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