Up at five
Breakfast before seven
My 2006 poems turn the 400 mark
As dawn breaks
And blackbirds chirp
After lunch there is a tiredness
Thankfully, the crystal in the window
Glows red as if a burning sun
Its energy pulsates into and inside me
Telling me to write, to get writing
In that one moment
I captured that one existential breath
Where the lines of absorbent energy
Became coincidental with the lived life
As if some preordained force of nature
Just as those Critical Theory classes at Buxton
Could so so easily have been disrupted
If the champagne socialist and artist within me
Hadn’t careered into a Labour Party card-carrying
Member and activist, also the lecturer fo the day
