Brian Taylor Poems

China-bound girl,
not-yet-happiness-made-her-found girl.
Airport-station-taxis girl,
brand-new-outside-sensations girl.
...

An old machine
resting there
made of bits and pieces;
whatever happened to be spare
...

Register the birth.
Now register the death.
All unfinished business
ends with the breath.
...

In Buddha's sunlit laboratory
(or Dhamma chamber) ,
experiments by laboratory assistants
(or monks)
...

The scent of the rose
fades in the dry air
and the roses themselves
shrivel and fall.
...

Leaves blowing
in a wind
that has no origin
(and no destination) .
...

A bare chest
is a cooler way
on a hot day
than a string vest.
...

Leaves from the Tree of Life;
brown and withered,
dried with growing old,
dislodged by the touch of Time;
...

Today a hundred yards of green lawn
along the river promenade,
interspersed with small trees and bushes,
are ready for trimming.
...

It may not be the bearded man
who smiles at you and explodes.
It may not be the errant tyre
that slides on the icy roads.
...