The hills have masks
or at least that’s what I think dad said.
Walking the length of Warehouse Hill
you can see them over
the horizon: metal towers
with buttons of red lights
that we can see from everywhere.
We’ve got bags of
Chinese takeaway, and a free
bottle of pop because dad
told the lady it was my birthday.
I know I’ll remember this day
as long as I live,...
Wednesday 5th July 2017 7:19 pm
The coal man is here again and from the flatbed
he unloads a ton of coal with tar black hands.
Watching from the window, we hide behind the curtain
and speak softly so as not to be heard. This is our world.
And I trick you with the question of which will weigh heaviest;
coal or feathers when delivered in equal measures.
But you push me away turning both eyes toward...
Wednesday 5th July 2017 7:08 pm
It rained forever and a day
and was freezing cold
the year you were six
and me forty two.
And it worried me sick
the thought of you;
inside forever, in bed,
not knowing what to do.
They’ll eat anything
your grandfather said,
but for two whole days
you missed your food.
And finally, unlike the sun,
cloudbursts of spots
on your nose, chin
Wednesday 5th July 2017 7:02 pm
the photographs of road signs charged by light,
footprints on the dashboard
or blurred trees stooped like men picking leaves.
Or the back of my head, the garden shed
or all the landscapes from summer days when
we turned the camera on ourselves
and photographed nothing but wind.
We send thanks
and message school friends, relatives
and people w...
Friday 30th September 2016 7:19 pm