wb :

i write yet again of the sea
which tosses up iridescent flying
things - not the obvious, dull-eyed
fishes, but lace-frothed waves,
obscuring the lonely, evasive eels,
the ones you need to look
hard to see.

the sand chafes the glass sculpture
the tide makes in every moment,
spinning up tiny, miniature fauna,
shaping all possible types of sea-pebbles
to pick for your pockets, pretending
a shark or unnamed underwater animal

had sniffed it, played with it as it
grew up, hid behind it when the
slamming of the shores seemed like
thunder from above, when the gulls
seemed to be crying their fates
when hooks came searching for them
and they could not slip away like the eels

the poem
touches a nerve like last night
we tossed our hearts, strands of hair,
washing powder, tupperwares
onto the grand scale, weighing up our worths


the words wave over me like a sea of lights
woofing, pawing, wanting to play
they reach right into the center
where nothing but deflated
balloons stay


they paint life with added shimmer-
the forest-colored litter receptacles,
smoky bars with no patrons, even once-
white gates no-one has sat on; darted
a glance at; grown roses on for years


now. and the poem subsumes the beetles
of our fears, absorbs the sillinesses
of the imaginary face-offs, tussles
between grasshoppers, earthworms and children.

Now, thoughts of you are like
mythical rainbows and
chamber pots of gold.
They float up unannounced
like goblets of oil from
dirty dishes in the sink's nose.

If I but told you, all the
global warming in the world,
all the coffee cups and scones
couldn't stop the inevitable
ice age and stupid sniffling
I'll explain as a really bad cold.
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wrote this ages ago, can't remember if i showed anyone though! clearing up my possessions, thought i'd better keep this in a relatively un-loseable place heh.