Between two bridges I fish
The Stour in winter.
The river is traumatised and
Skittish after rain three days solid,
...
I chucked your soap on a rope
over the back fence onto the
Liverpool Street Line, at a train actually,
but missed, my arms too short for a serious lob;
...
Your wife wants:
this time it`s chickens.
So you winged a coop from wood and wire
for her birthday. You found a supplier
...
In the process of clearing out
my dad`s ramshackle shed-
(after he died of drink and general self-neglect;
I unlock a dark-wooded looming
...
I pass a graveyard late at night,
moonlight playing on the headstones.
Their shadows dark hooked fingers
that claw at the ground;
...
Hedge layer, gap-mender
forged from frost and fissured trees;
your split hazel brash,
a white slash against
...
Sizewell`s exploded, you said
as the dying sun
grows immense in your eyes,
and gulls collide
...