Ceremony

It is a place of shape and deportment; families of ancients, and families of now
The young Gatsby impersonator tells his grandpapa of the truth of his homosexuality.

There are sharp intakes of breath at the five sided table; that all those years of creating wealth should have come to this.

The ceremony is over; sharp suits, floral dresses, silks, satins and famously feathered hats make their way through the we have seen better days gardens

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Set it up

Time out to time out

Spot the signs of wear and tear

Pick the pockets of the mind

Rally round the dancing bear

These are the ones

And twos in close collusion

In sharp contrast

To those who are not there

These guys eschew

The terms of confusion

All but bypass the ones

And twos who are not there

Time to time out of this time out

Collect the ticket, pay the fare

Share the dockets; to be so kind

Sally did not find her anger there

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Time Off

Eyes closed

A body of messages

Form a disorderly queue

Interrupted

By a call from the hillside

A view of settled grass

Of the wide open moorland

Before the longer view, a more distant Tor

I bought a new watch

It acts as a reminder

Same make, similar model

Stainless steel strap, with inset gold plate

Saturday mornings did it for me then

As they do it for me now

How else to find the space

Time to agglomerate the pace

A place where vapour trails of memories

Can place me between the roof and the floor

Thrust me, hang me helpless, into the chasms

Of neither knowing, nor not ever understanding

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Tackle

I wake so early

The stakes higher than before

This pattern called to break

For the sake of all, and evermore

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Once more YKB

If the week could be longer

Strength of mind turned

By the fruits of our own design

As we walk the surf side line

If the bonds then stronger

Length of loss spurned

By the cuteness of our own time

As we talk the blue of Yves Klein

This poem is from the collection