Abando
Leave your shadows underground
Let life
Bring your light to the surface
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Depth, without depth
Horizons
Without lines or folds
Step up
Jermyn Street tailor
Tell me please
Is it an illusion?
Or is the client
Deceased
But
Was he the hunter?
That set you free
Held up by technology, limited by artificial light
Pictures at an exhibition
Or skeletal, to sail on into the night
Why?
Lean to the right, lean to the left
Step out a toe
Dance and shout
Say hello
Dance, shout
Please - for my sake move
Say hello
Let's sail together - timeless into the night
Beneath the moon and the ocean spray
Outward of the dock of the bay
Pray lord forgiveness
Care now
Lower the garlands safely, submissively
Let us all, climb overboard
Fish eye lens
Theorists of conspiracy, whose view depends on those expired or at liberty
Are you stopping, at my station?
A single red dress, one pink curtain, long back yards of isolation
Relocation
Are you stopping at my station?
Hard in this country to be further from sand and sea
Or rather further from sea and sand
Hard, or it used to be
To be nearer to steel and blacking
Or further from bragging
About the need to steal