Hallowmas

Photography

Capturing anticipation in a line
Still taut in the hesitancy of time
Rebalancing the seen with each new proof
Restoring the forgotten reel of choice
Accommodating what cannot be moved
Under the breath, held to achieve no noise
Retaining elusive, impermanent poise...
For in passionate inaccuracy lies
In mysterious shallows deeply prized
That last night pictured in the current lost
I dared to think to have tomorrow caught

Repeating anticipation in a line
Still taut in the hesitancy of time
Encapturing what in calm approaches
And shaken by what in turbulence died
With each shot there are reproaches
From yesterday, but out of time...
Tremulous hopes, like prophecy, part blind
Are bright scenes spun around a present dark
Snapped together to make in future sharp
That last night pictured in the current lost
I dared to think to have tomorrow caught

After Dark

Scotland

Packed cemetery and empty presbytery
Clutch a grim faith beyond which glitter
All afternoon and evenly spaced
Overspilled graves from recent days
South-facing and respectfully distanced

Walk much later on a moonless night
The trafficless road non-reflective
Guide past summit and far copse:
There is no village to speak of
The little ricks roar, hiddenly spate

Brief borders within pitch quiet
And one day may pick out a bud
Or blade but nothing has ever shone
Beyond a last black row of gravestones
South-facing and respectfully distanced

Death of a Resort

At a gesture from the finger
Of the pier towards the fishshop
Taming gulls a lonely jukebox
Overflows its ‘fresh' catch
In off-seasonality

The sandcastles crumbling there
Once trails of poetry in their race
To release each brief bond,
Casting down in sure cascades
Of drying sand a history

Are a sleeping town’s gentility,
A mockery, perhaps a crack
At detritus in the lapping
Echo cast around affronted
Wynds, stark terraces

By Her Side

Two clocks, two clocks tick
With the beat of her heart
Tip-tap, between us,
Punctuality verged on flight,
Nearby a distant barking dog
Caught inside the hollowed tin
Of an empty radiator mounting
The only warmth between us
Tonight embodies everything
But this sound of our hearts
Tip-tap, between us

The Tribe

The Tribe

People still with what is

Built alike on absence
From end punctuation
Or first dark impressions
Their paused expectations
Resound clearly as words

People still with what is

Built alike on absence
Never leaving the scene
Evident deletion
Nor sharing completion
That needs confirmation

People still with what is

Built alike on absence
From our imitation
Or later additions
Naming to destruction
That past limitation

People still with what is





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