Sunday, 4 December 2011

The Green Man

The green man:
I always see him walking,
just beyond my crimson feet
to a place I'll never know.

My hands are red,
my feet are red
and I prefer to stand.

I can never quite catch him,
no matter how hard I try.

I wait and I stare
at impatient faces,
impatient feet
and impatient hands

that button they depend on.

I know,
I accept,
they want me gone.

They want the green man.

He is loved,
because he walks.
He is the Pied Piper,
right across the road.

Friday, 9 September 2011

The Life of a Gull

When the gulls come of age,
they leave the cliffs that hide them.

Their mothers and fathers send them off
on a quest to change them.

They follow a human boat
around the vast seas:

past silver beaches,
and over dancing reefs.

Dark spirits shall taunt them
and storms shall veer them,

but with the strongest hearts,
they shall persevere.

They shall return to the cliffs,
where they were born,

their wings beating still,
and their strength tired and beat.

Their mothers and fathers
shall welcome them with opens arms,

and they shall settle down
to live the life of a gull.

(Another thank-you for the inspiration, Phoebe!)

Travels to Space on Exotic Creatures

Believe me,
it’s quite possible.

Simply click your tongue three times,
maybe four
and state the magic words:

then wait—

you’ll be on the back of a giant squid,
otherwise known as the Architeuthis
or wizard of the sea.

Mesmerised by its inky dreamy spells,
you’ll travel through the sky
to the edge of the Earth.

And there you will find,
if you look so carefully,

where the humpback whales debate over mysteries of life,
over a toast of planets
and exotic stars.

Thursday, 8 September 2011

The Greatest Chandelier

Every morning I wake to the sound
of engineers clanging
and operators raising the crane.

People can’t see them,
for their orange safety vests
are invisible to the world.

Because the sun
is a giant, whirring machine.
It consists of billions of miniature bulbs,

flashing gold-white light
as the greatest chandelier imagined.
The workers, hired for this one purpose,

tirelessly lift the sphere,
the sphere essential to our existence;
its fragile sheen teetering

on the single point,
the black void,
the construction site.

Then when their work is done
they perch on the clouds
and pick at tuna sandwiches.

They watch the world rise,
and they watch the world wander
before they unhook the sun from its height,

and nobody knew they existed.

Saturday, 3 September 2011

Anything Can Fly

See yourself flying,
and below you:

Schooners and Sharpies,
Cutters and Catboats
catching the wind
to sail the unknown skies.

Imagine boats can fly.

just like you,
your wings wide and strong.

In fact,
choose anything.

You don’t need boats.

They could be king-sized beds,
their pillows the hot air balloons.

You could land on them;
ride them like magic carpets,
if you’re feeling tired.

So lay down,

and imagine yourself flying.

Friday, 2 September 2011

Salty Water

Pour salt into water:
rinse and spit.

Useful for wisdom teeth, sore gums, tooth decay and enamel rot.

Inexplicable rashes, bruises in the shape of possibly someone you know, grass stains, itchy backs and noses, broken legs (not arms); a craving for chocolate-rolled foudant, courtesy of somebody; nervous toes and hay fever are helped.

But there's more,
so I'll let you in on a little secret.

Destructive arguments, war, the missing TV remote, demonic possessions, terminal illnesses, the mid-life crisis--


--and a broken heart,

are all things of the past.

Tuesday, 30 August 2011


That awful sound
at the dead of night.
fat-blood drinkers
zipping down;
wings that guide them
down to the meadow
to graze.

Friday, 12 August 2011

Turtle chasing the rabbit

The turtle chases the rabbit
but the rabbit chases the fox.
The fox chases the thrush,
but the thrush chases the lion.
The lion chases the crocodile,
the crocodile chases the mouse.
The mouse chases the rat,
but the rat chases man.
Man chases God
and finds nothing of importance.

Saturday, 30 July 2011

Oh My God!

Sweet mother of God,
why do you surprise me?
I open my eyes: you’re wide
with a smile, and a gift on your lap.
What do you have to give me?
An explosion or two, an implosion
would be nice. Cyclists launching
head over heels
and space holidays to the far side of Mars.
You surprise me,
you always do;
so I praise you.
I praise you,
and when your name is not enough,
I scream to the heavens:
Holy Jesus Fuck.

Sunday, 24 July 2011


The skeleton in the closet came to the party. It danced and danced and we tried to stop the skeleton but it wouldn’t stop. It was making a fool of us all and the entire family was ashamed. So so ashamed. The skeleton in the closet just kept on dancing and every alcoholic drink in the room was drowned down its sickly throat.

Thursday, 21 July 2011

The Zeppelin

(Thanks to Phoebe Halstead for the drawing. Her art can be found here:

"Look outside: a bright day,
a bright sky. Clear as snow
plains of the Arctic."

The boy looks and sees
blue cheeks. A sun for a smile,
but the emptiness is a frown.

Empty is nothing.
It is a frozen existence,
and the sky needs a shape.

"What would you like to see?"
Santa speaks and the boy
trusts. He asks for the greatest gift.

So the old man draws a zeppelin:
as light as paper-thin ice,
as sweet as freshwater,

the airship nestles in a colony
of clouds. Little human dots feast
in the gondola: on fish and fruit.

"They will see the world,
towards the East,
and back to the West.

They will visit the mountains,
and civilisations of breadth
you will not believe.

Towers and ziggurats,
marsupials and wildebeests
and icecaps dancing on the sea."

Tuesday, 14 June 2011

At the edge of the universe

At the edge of the universe,
an old man drinks
                                   (so listen well).

Hear the lungs and heart

He is Hivemind.
He is God.
He is—heartbroken and

Do you know this man?
Are you associates?

Because he won’t know you:
               you’re a stranger
wearing strange clothes.
                   (and it’s sad),

Because millions of microscopic years
developed us,
                    loved us
                    and hated us.

We drifted away.
                                  (stars on a highway)
Made friends with
          metal casings,

danced in oily dresses
and dreamed:
                         of bliss
and the company

of an old man.