You are in the water the lake and seas
As you are in the land the rocks and hills
You are in the seasons birth love and life
As you are in the seasons fish fruit and game
...
John Peel is dead
Stop all the clocks
Or at least turn off the radio
If John Peel is dead then
...
If it could be, it would be
It would flow from underneath and
growing upwards would encompass
all and everything
...
Weasel words
with easy starts
are not the first
ones to our hearts
...
Soon no poems of true or false
rumour, beauty or daft rages
Before the silence and the dark
just spittle on blank pages
...
The children on the dark forgotten line
The line outside the side that has the dosh
The dosh that was intended for the stuff
the stuff of which there never is enough
...
Silence
Except for the poem
The poem is reading in my head
I can make it stop, for a while
...
Sometimes
when you are the kite
I toss you over the clouds
...
No, I made no application
I have only just arrived.
But you are - happy here?
...