The light was cold
The wet tarmac
Reflected the sun
Causing me
To close my eyes
This is December I thought
Late on in my life
Yet I feel
Way younger
Than those about me
The mornings pain
Is in the very centre
Of my upper back
Just below
The neck line
The day is calm
Although
The tea bags are split
And have made a mess
I send an email to complain
The wild green moss
On next doors
Rickety shed roof
Glistens, as do the catkins
Which wave in the breeze
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I saw a pen and ink sketch
Of William Burroughs
It was in a pop-up art exhibition
In Hull’s old fruit market
I looked at the sketch several times
But there and then I did not buy it
Yet, next day, back at home
The image was still on my mind
I found a likeness online
A photograph in the guardian magazine
Fronting an article about the aforesaid Mr Burroughs
Addictions; I thought this to be the base for the sketch
Further investigation turned up Matt Hopper’s page
On Etsy; the print was for sale, I made the purchase
A well wrapped parcel arrived in a couple of days
Along with the sketch a card with a website address
I followed the trail, to find a well worded artist
Who had lived a long time alone, perhaps too long
On a council estate with historic roots; sometimes
You see you do get way more than you bargained for
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Twisted trees
Sunlit branches
Frost one inch deep
On the car roof
Blue sky
Almost cloudless
Frost one inch deep
On the shed roof
Birds in flight
Also in evergreens
Frost one inch deep
Reveal garden footsteps
Sun behind me
Also to the side
Frost one inch deep
On the turning tide
Peace and quiet
I’m all alone now
Frost one inch deep
On remembered minds
Shadows on chairs
Shadows on tables
Frost one inch deep
Outside by the Stables
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The light
From the warm white
Bare lamp bulb
Falls onto the bright
Plain polyester type
Shower curtain
I lay in my bathtub
Left side
Under the water line
To ease the pain
Of my year long
Frozen shoulder
I am covered in bubbles
Meanwhile Lyle Lovett
Sings of his woman troubles
These are times of peace
These are times of calm
Balmy reminders of last summer
These are the moments
Of joy and gratefulness
For life and sentimental stuff
This is the life
And don’t I know it
If only I was able to show it
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Turner prize
A cold day in December
Actually a colder day than that
The fruit market
A cold day in December
Actually a warmer day than that
Robots, and waterfronts
A cold day in December
Actually at least as cold a day as that
Turquoise blue volunteers
Struggle with their posture
Awkward, with time, with purpose
Visitors, and well-wishers
And condescending temptresses
Who have seen me disappear
Seen me disappear
Into paintings and onto postage stamps
Seen me disappear
Into installations and video projections
Seen me disappear
Into a Saturday afternoon in December
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