Exposure

Just then
I was living in the past
Writing words to remember
That early summer afternoon

On vacation;
Still working you see
Yes;
Still time to make memories

I read so that I might write
Lucky a writer's policy of
Self delusion are limitless'
I write so that I might read

A writer let loose under the sheets
So to speak, no endgame in mind
Exclusive, intimate, brevity of joy
Sat together in the sauna

I was entirely naked
Your breasts
Your bare breasts
Enticing, alluring, joyful

Just then
I was living in the present
Thinking of words to remember
On that late afternoon in summer

Available on Kindle

Beautiful and Daft

A world of beautiful stuff
Beautiful stuff and daft stuff
Beautiful stuff; daft stuff

With Kate in our own
Private sauna at Bothy No.7
Naked and perspiring

Beautiful stuff

An email, from our friend John
Who says he has lost his wife Kathy
Could Kate do the funeral

Daft stuff

Watching the Libertines
Thanks to BBC IPlayer
Last night at Glastonbury

Beautiful stuff

News headlines
Which pronounce that
'Most of the dead in Tunisia
Are British'

Daft stuff

John; we send our love
Beautiful stuff and daft stuff
Beautiful stuff; daft stuff
Sometimes the words have to stop


Available on Kindle

Already Day

It was light already
Although the light
Would brighten up

I felt good already
Although the goodness
Would it continue

I heard the rain
Pouring down the drainpipe
Away into the sedge-lands

I heard the mind tinker
Calling to my soul
Are you beside me

I flicked the switches
First for the kettle
Then for the sauna bath

I flicked the sweat
Swiftly from my forehead
Am I more, am I less

It was morning already
Although the rest of the day
Was still so far ahead



Available on Kindle

Temples And Greenhouses

Of course there are passions
Some days the blood courses, shooting
Rapidly through my ageing veins
On its erstwhile amorous mission
Soon I will move into the temple
Try to learn or understand
The significance of the decoration
Study the gold leaf deeper
As if I might be more indulged
By the incidental passions
You travel with me most places
Today is no way different
As I sit beside the flaming roses
To write, then maybe post
Another self-exploratory note
Another self-explanation postcard
The gathered crowd disperses
I will make my own quiet entrance
Although first an aide-memoir
Remember to look up the name
Of that bridge in Venice
The breeze turns over the page
The weather turned out ok actually
Soon we will have completed
One half of our prescribed teachings
One part-set, of our insight-meditations

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Shoeing

As if on the last
As if on the line
No thought to surpass
Except of one of a kind

As if by the field
As if by the plough
Never a difficult yield
Except of one in the mind

As if on the road
As if to follow the sign
No experience to broach
Except of one rather benign

As if at the turn
As if all reason to mine
Shadows which lean to learn
As desire, of struggles to define

As if out of the tunnel
As if on to the final design
We darken the funnel
Fearful; of the mindless and blind

Available on Kindle