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From Shallamaars Recipe Book (1696)
If you present food on rainbow plates It loses its colour and taste. Always present food on white plates
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The Centre of the Road
The Deserter In the midst of the battle I laid down my gun And began my proxy wars Birthland The place where I was born Is covered in ash I have no history The Centre of the Road I was new born In the centre of the road Cars passed me on each […]
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Poems not written in the Test Valley or The Café Music of a Dismal Dwarf
On a Terrace in Algiers On a terrace in Algiers I painted as the sun declined It never returned I did not collect my work Martin Luther In the places where the cedars grow Tea can be taken You will be seated Next to Martin Luther Souvenirs are available Found In a wine field Under […]
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Perfume (On Southern Roads)
The tree admires the lavender fields But does not care for the perfume The burning hills west Dream of the sea And the fragrance of mermaids. Written on a copy of Le Monde whilst driving through Southern France (1981)
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L’ Inconnue De La Seine
Plucked unknown from the pitiful waters of the city she rests cold upon the ice slab below the windows of the dead her faint smile hardly cutting those frozen lips going unnoticed, distant from the recreational stares of the vacant file for she had seen in those murky depths the many coloured lights of the […]
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Cor Cordium
The Church of the Mountains Has no congregation Its path is clear But nobody comes Only I see its beating heart
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Country Ways
The spindle trees Write quiet messages On the low cloud As the sparse birds search For their fortune tokens In the brittle light soil. Remembered maidens worry About their imperfections Whilst on the brink of beauty As the mystic cartmen Celebrate the dead blossom air. At the inn of all seasons The men […]
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Philosophical Poem
Why did the snail cross the road ? Because he was moving house. A serious and good philosophical work could be written consisting entirely of jokes Wittgenstein
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Magliabechi
What distant memories Will you possess When you study The libraries of the universe ?
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New Marchants Passage
The sign clings to the white stone It is an essential love I have discussed the platonic