Tuesday, 4 March 2014

Morning Ghosts / The Woodpecker

Morning Ghosts

The buildings are skeletons, giant
rib cages mouths of
cracked teeth

eyes that regard
the morning’s light
without

brown bristled plants
grown through
their hollows

orange trees
grow from rust
coloured soil that
tumbles with
the wind

glinting, a mound
of tile
fragments blue
and white

used up
wooden
cable
reels

rows and rows some
branches heavy with
the fruit that
in
other places lies
where it
falls

to the sea
the land is
flat

in the west
low
green mountains
wait.


Near Valencia, February 2014


The Woodpecker

Bands of colour wash
the land and
sky
Pale gold slate blue
scrub green grey hewn
and hammered

the red head of
the bird bounces

rising and falling
loping, he goes

from the fence
post to the tree
and then all
across the riven
ground

as if taking a short
stop
at every point he
passes, perhaps
checking

to sniff the peaks in
the air. 

Sunday, 23 February 2014

Belt



Belt

One day I asked
about his back

He was one of the
travellers, long
tough, sinewy, a body

of knotted rope
bunched and stretched
beyond its 14 years

Long raised lines ran
pale along it, bared
in the thin sun

He told me
they were scars that’s all
I pressed, where from

When I was younger
I got the belt

and
he made a movement
with his arm

A wind caught the
backs of my legs

I didn’t
ask anything else

He covered himself
picked up the ball

We’d smoked together
a few times

I suppose I thought I was
escaping from
something

About

My photo
Writtle/Castelló de la Plana, Essex/Valencia