The Ionian Night

Didn’t you know..

plays again and again-
following me through
the ionian night.
Shaking hands with
Eddy Floyd in a corner bar
frequented by those who
prefer their evenings brash.
With temperatures staying
at one hundred and five-
the cats are stretching out
in doorways they are guarding
and dogs they are a howling-
out into the restless night.
Where mosquitos circulate
round legs just ripe for biting-
sucking silently and skin deep.
On white sheet pillows
we return to sleep.
Beneath the citrus sweet
and the low hum of a airconditioning.


Filling the intervals.
Making time with a
beat of your heart.
You’re another year-
but don’t you look good.
Happy birthday –
Happy birthday to you.

The Eviscerators

Revive, can you revive
what is past and
long forgotten, unremembered
a figment of an imagination –
fallen on hard times.
Can you configure a feeling,
make it live a length of time.
Find a fallow febrile pulse
in a corpse of many years.

You know there are tortures.
Little pistol-shots of humiliation.
Intimate investigations –
ripping-out the personal,
laying bare the innermost.
How do they sleep at night,
the ones who do such things-
the mean-spirited ones,
the eviscerators.

For When We Do Remember

We are fey unforgiving souls.
Trembling through the forgotten night.
We are they, the ones that are –
a burden on the soul.
Pray for us through the years.
For when we do remember,
the world will have turned too far.
Leaving us prone on molten mud.
May we meet those untrustworthy memories
with bared teeth and unrequited love.
For when we do remember……..

Piero’s Light

The Sicilian sun.
Piero’s light.
When they were done
she left the bedroom
to wash and dress.
Fill the day with endless
strokes of everything.
Transfer to another town,
on the southern coast.
Live before death takes
it all away.

Hace Mucho Calor!

The sound of quiet birdsong.
The rev of a motorcycle,
childishly loud and snotty.
Heat and dust and a most –
enchanted evening spiralling
out of control.
Have you ever spent one
exactly like this ?
With a drumbeat marking –
time in some distant street.
Hace mucho calor !
I hear them say –
out there in the Spanish night.


By Edward Thomas

Yes. I remember Adlestrop—
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly. It was late June.

The steam hissed. Someone cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform. What I saw
Was Adlestrop—only the name

And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.

And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and round him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.