Where I find happier unhurried versions of me,

artists turn into authors,

teachers turn into permanent poets,

poets turn into famous figures

to turn careful attentions to,

and into mentors

on littlest clips that play

on a repetition of introduction,

like and if you love writing poems

or would like to learn how, follow me

that I hear

each same time

each day.

A...

Read and leave comments (0)

What Keeps Us Returning

What keeps the volunteer returning
three years,
three mornings a week?
The book of notes from each situation,
each client needing an appointment,
the way she wrote detailed and fast,
the surety in the typing of the reports
of what was asked, what advice was given,
impact and resolution,
the face to face and telephone work
of advice giving,
the quiet rhythm of ...

Read and leave comments (1)

If our grandparents left their house, 
we'd miss the Autumn evening drive
to there after school on Fridays,
down the road where people rarely
discover their way to the village with
thirty-five locals, still quite hidden & remote.

We'd miss the night's clouds on
silent stained glass of the village
Church as it greets us just before 
the flare of trees & village green
is still distinguis...

Read and leave comments (1)

Good Things

After the poem Three Good Things by Jan Dean.

At week's end, I remember

three good things.

Maybe pencils, with their quiet apt of strokes

for a gravelly ground,

or a fading, fraying edge, or a feather,

or a pamphlet of zebra

stripe.

Maybe glass, for when it never lets me miss the details,

the detail behind a history,

haberdashery sho...

Read and leave comments (0)

I remember us in the tall
  of balconied condominiums over there.
I remember the seemingly rainbowy effect 
drawing us towards new clothes & music for sale
in exquisite gigantesque shopping malls, the
trust we will be hearing a hello, and have a nice
day tune from shop assistants at every shop door, 
where billboards above advertised albums by Beyonce, 
fragrances, and films, us becoming f...

Read and leave comments (2)

Poem after Isabel Galleymore.

The cute beaded sequin-embellished firefly
 embroidered to the front of a recyclable blue
  loves to be on the show so much.
Fashion arrays, boutique sales, forest floors,
and decades of its shimmery are uncounted everywhere.
When the invitation for us to meet outside is there,
  the cute beaded sequin-embellished firefly is
a neon sign announcing a caf...

Read and leave comments (0)

Mouthful Of Words

Poem after Brian Moses

These are the words my teacher teaches,

omnipresent, evaporating, invigilator, dichotomy,

diminuendo.

Then there are the words at home they choose

in our chatters animated to recounting the news.

There are the words that Grandma always seems

to say that I regurgitate, no matter the situation or their

denoting: bam...

Read and leave comments (1)