Night slunk in the summer door
While I was reading.
A watery, half-arsed dark
Still trailing its

These corridors are conduits;
Ancient speaking tubes
Riddling the building,
Bringing sudden

Of course, I want to live a tidy life
With all those documents correctly filed
That save us – and

Your pose already spoke of poetry
Propped easily by shoulder and by hip
Your dark hair edged in

I turn my head to the left
And glimpse mythology
Those birds are saying something
Warning or

Sometimes I wish for photographs of smells
A way to capture sensuous moments;

A sunny June in