Dance my maidens to the solitary tunes of the ghost piper and glide gracefully into the romance of a teardrop sun.      from the Dartmoor legend of the nine maidens who were turned to stone for dancing on a Sunday  

when the natural light enters the sewer rats will sail the world, icebergs will melt and sailors will pay whores with diamonds as they wait for their illumination      

I shall not fan the flames of my neighbours house lest they consume my own. In the darkness of vision only speak with the stranger and heed his warning . I will see the construction of the white sleep in my journal of dreams. Will my pleasures continue when the battles cease or will the […]

The bargeman saw visions of paradise through the fast cloud in the mimic of the sea His narrow family recited songs of the commerce link as they passed the bridges of pedestrian burning And the flow spring danced with the lungs of the free water   2002  

When streets are sensuous dances are held lit by the recollections of his day The waters at Coate reflected the last light of the day but searched in vain for the spring stars I had travelled from Bath and when passing Liddington Hill I was much impressed by the swept snow that covered the summit. […]

I am aware of your masks Do not play games You will not fool me With your short colour   If I refuse your communion Then address me By my rest name I will not lie with you   1983

I could write that the rapid red butterflies were still on wing bringing colour to this autumn lane. But this is untrue The wind is getting colder and these insects and their splendid colours have vanished without trace It is time for a heavier coat I fear   You were working on my self portrait […]

in gleaming harmony   of its new journey   and spread the seeds     of a warm mother It returned to the womb           It was reported that a meteorite landed in the sea off of Whitstable in the final weeks of October 2011  

Down Drown Down Bed of Gown Let us be rid of this useless town You write this on your exercise book (next to your name) and pass it to me in secret under the desk. Jonty Giles notices and writes another verse (which he sells to me). Maroon in colour, unkempt, I leaf through the […]

Castaway on a lonely raft far from a lost land he sensed the communion of seasons and imagined the cells of angels hidden behind the comet sun as he had seen their reflections in the fine feathered sea     1981