They travel oblivious, each rhynitic
snout tucked deep in a Metro
or a vapid vampire novel.
‘This time will you
ever leave me dead’.
At river high tide on the hot days
Grey mullet graze the undersurface.
Nearby, at the old canal
So he said there’s not much good
in having a bee-loud glade and
His face to the mirror oblique,
Nonchalantly nonevasive, declares:
Look at me, I am ready to be
Curve of coral,
You basked in bright water
Warm as blood till
You in a
On Seventh Avenue, down near Morton,
a sound came startling me from a
garden wall between two
Cirrus whispers hushed
a sky effervescent with
Swallows grasping for the courage
and the moment
Ochre marble lino grew in the house
Like scutch grass running through
Meadows, reaching every
All the shiny black cars.
Whitewalled, steel-spoked wheels.
Orange bakelite fingers
All moments point towards the
Instant your grey eyes looked upward
Into mine, on a hillock, in a
On his haunches then he hunched,
Finely chewing, for the meat was good,
The forester but lately