Don’t drive a car. Dreaming up a poem
is not compatible with judging
distances and steering straight.
...
If this poem came from IKEA
It would be a flatpack poem
You'd have to assemble it
In your own time
...
It had climbed from the lavender
Under the open window
And now creeps along the sill,
I think of Hughes' thought-fox
...
I’d like to join this gang
Of poets, their books
Tower above me – beckoning…
As I pull one out
...
Dark suddenly, the day's circulation choked off.
Dizzy carlights, a wipered transparent
Half-moon dissolves.
...
Tugging and tearing -
Backing off - tugging and tearing,
But this is not a terrier.
...
By 1.20 a.m. the firestorm
Raged 2,000 metres into the sky
Even the canals blazed,
...
Her flesh shrank
From the spars
Of her shipwreck,
She ate less and less
...