Richard George Poems

Acid green new growth:
dazzle-glimmer dying sun
ripens into gold.
...

An imp and a boy king,
between them not a syllable
of English. They rake our house
with AK-47 Slavic staccato:
...

It wasn't to be. You
knew, wiser at eighteen
than my ten years of beard-weed.
...

Glaucous eye of Homer
inscrutable, then turquoise shoaled
violet, wink of the wisp,
down the man-mountain she draws
...

It was our last summer in the village
and flycatchers nested
in the eaves of our garden shed.
I was mad that year:
...

1

He first sketched the kitten
to comfort his young wife
...

She isn't / she is
beautiful: all faces are
beautiful concerned
...

Worn gold, fear not fresh plastic.
Each furrow reflects
a superhighway of desire blazed
into my landscape of neurons.
...

At copperplate madrasa
I mastered the scalpel
Shipman dipped in vermillion
and suave
...

Forget his Neronian Muse.
What troubles me
is this man was a psychiatrist.
He had analysed the loam
...