Two women passed my beach house   Both were carrying brightly coloured surfboards   They are a mother and her daughter     What is the sea hiding today   It is so benign   There are no waves

In 1871 the famous French Symbolist poet Stephane Mallarme visited my home town of Bradford on Avon He would have come by train In the 1960s I used to play in the sand at the town’s railway station I was not aware of his visit at that time although I had begun to write poetry […]

I have been told that most memories are lost within hours But some are retained Many are trivial and one wonders of their survival Yet I remember you clearly on the bridge of your ship You were not wearing a cap due to the strength of the wind And between the storm clouds Your hair […]

La jeune dame qui marche sur la pelouse Devant l’été paré de pommes et d’appas, Quand des heures Midi comblé jette les douze, Dans cette plénitude arrêtant ses beaux pas, A dit un jour, tragique abandonnée – épouse – A la Mort séduisant son Poëte : « Trépas ! Tu mens. Ô vain climat nul ! […]

For many years it has been whispered that distressed travellers have been assisted by a girl in a white dress   As this has never happened to me I do not know whether this is true or a fanciful legend   I have seen a girl in a white dress haunting the back streets of […]

I AM STANDING ON A BEACH WITH Marie AntNTOINETTE It is an ordinary beach Fifty-one envelopes are pinned to me Each contains tufts of her pubic hair They are to be used when creating new soups Near the rocks a poet is selling a painting It is called Combat de Negres dans un Tunnel   […]

I like to read philosophy books when I am in the bath The works well when I am quite alone But it does prove difficult when my wife joins me in the bath As instead of of studying my books I just stare at her magnificent breasts She sympathises with my dilemma And often lends […]

My mother died a few weeks ago and today I cut the first sod of her final resting place She had wanted to rest with with my father But as we were digging I noted a greying in the damp soil For the first time in many years my father was looking up at the […]

Planned events are often totally unplanned And come as a total surprise They have little consistency I today disturbed my fathers ashes With little cause Because of the purity of my mathematics

I was carving sad angels into the soft wood of her catafalque This task did not please me as I could hear the angels weeping loudly within Their tears fell quietly on to the cold marble tiles And produced an inland sea I had planned to escape But I knew that I was drowning