Do I miss you more?
Your words absent
Hollow space on white page
Where our love
...
She wakes, with hot emotion streaming
warm and wet, across one rosy cheek.
Slowly reason rises, tears subside,
for many times does bitter obligation
...
Today
There is no need for you to visit me
I can change light bulbs, tap washers and flat tyres.
Take out the garbage, mow the lawn and trim the edges
...
Lowered eyes, every footfall soundless,
bony shoulders rise and fall as pistons
And strike! Death is delivered,
the quarry stilled in an instant.
...
The first day sings sublimely in his mind,
standing on the honed blade of her smile.
She permeates each niche of his desire,
brazen joys which better sense denies.
...
I picture you,
opening the door,
walking up the orchard rows,
in the caramel of evening light.
...
Philosophers assure us
that it’s all a state of mind,
from every thought that’s in our head
to the boil on our behind.
...
No sculpted stone or shade on deckle page,
no canvas daub or etch in verdigris,
no crystal flash or scrap of celluloid
can portray the simple candour of our age.
...