3 Viva Pathways

General collection



Wake like adrenaline
Gold cherry

A Friday Morning Rally Poem for the Dream I Never Had

When the heart has been readied, I know they will come Jung opened the window, a scarbaeid flew in. Since I boxed away the things you left behind,...

An Ordinary Christmas Day

Mea culpa there was no wine for the day and the table I had set perfectly with no right to impose sobriety when the world is at feast. You drink from my cup

Anonymous Artists

And here on Oostende’s pallid beach They drew a circle in the sand With one word all could understand A sign within a doubter’s reach They came from Lille and Rome and all

Art Class in Brookwood Cemetery

Leaving the Cemetery Pale road to sketch the headstones strewn like irregular verbs across this mirror of opposites. We have cautious connections; the boy Baron who died in his car-seat

At the fission reactor

Like a child you have learned to read these moments the footnotes of life’s thesis. You have stumbled upon who we are (and may become) in the uncertainty of atoms and the unchanging now.

Borrowing Children

I am still undecided whether I want kids myself!

Bridge Street

It’s not like the movies, more like the gospel. Malnourished hearts fed a strange kind of food. Words are a scalpel, a scar from the past. I watch...

Burning the Plough

A good life we had through hard work

Camellia Sinensis Love Song

first draught...another tea poem I regret

Carpe Diem

That expletive could be the pinnacle of us, the phone slammed in its cradle quivering like post-anaesthetic nausea

Cathedral Crib

Thee plaster figures, minimal, modern on thy knees before the crib and after midnight mass, an exodus trails remnant candlewax.

cava cocktails and codeine

I was thinking yesterday about that time we were in Toronto ...

Cold in Summer

I am cold in summer this room gets little sun

Dans nos obscurités

Blue night party, sloped into gardens small groups gathered under flares; glasses clinked, voices hushed down. I moved along paths shiny with stones - pocked stars, barn owl white.

Desire Still for One Soft Moment

Sometimes, desire is inadmissible attraction anonymous and hidden from view; in the flowerbed of the furthest corner of a garden gentle delivery...

Final Hit

I want it to stop. This tendency to bring down everything into the mayhem of blister packs and bottles. Maybe I shall hang it all from ropes of twitchy synapses


Those whited sepulchres would never let me through the ruck

Fox Streeet

I wanted to write with feeling but don’t know how Writing inventory again at the kitchen table retaking a test –resigned to fail. Looking for...

I Can't Feel The Guns

Shooting that occurred on boxing day 2007 next to my block on the Aylesbury Estate. The body lay unnoticed for more than 24 hours. http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/7164679.stm

If I make it

Inspiration Point


Your pain is incurable. Abandoned by every lover who felt the intemperate shadow cast by eyes that know there is no medicine. At night you fetch juice from the refrigerator,

It was good

It felt good while it lasted
Gold cherry

Keble College

Dare I admit that I am still lonely and vagrant fingers tap the inside of my skull? Restlessly tango from foot to foot. tightened tendons leave no...


This city, once filled with people became a widow, now finally a corpse. This road, a string of asphalt, dangles like a stray limb from an autopsy table.

Last One to Leave on the Last Day of Term

Things will happen when we are away a new coat of floor polish, the piano will be tuned.

Last Shout

This is perhaps the last time I will write. The man of sorrows has gone to another place and so I do not need to write to him. The world is about to...


After the party, I passed out from drink oblivious to the unrest of vessels, of magma in my nose the warning gauge failed. Unknown in the night, I bled the delicate red of tulips

London Snow

I went to sleep alone yet woke to find you next to me. The white room was filled with an unnatural brilliant light as you broke the morning news, framed at the bedroom window like an arctic fox.


Gold cherry

Never forget smoking

The art of failing is easy to master, and after the first time I rolled a cigarette, the skill remained, honed to a production line perfection of...

Not yet a Mother

(or 'waiting for Arthur')

Ockham Mill

It took me too long to understand the sharp angst of winter; the frozen canals, the loss of life to a deep

On Paddington

She stops by the bronze, an instant brief and bitter as espresso, makes her sign ...

Professor Jones Lectures on Death and Dying

There are many kinds of death and each one a child's. He quotes from Lucretius When death is, we are not at his right hand I drift through the last taboo unafraid of expiation.


By this river, where you were born, I saw you panning the silt of your sadness for something tangible. Perhaps, you thought the dead left nothing the...

Raven Head

P A R A N O I A cursed three times in four minutes of anonymous fame, the genetic blueprint of primal fear. You've hawked it, fed it, pimped it in situ: the brothel of rehab. Tell me,



Running from Shame

This is what you have feared too long opening old maps to see a pawn shop for freedom selling bottles at eight a.m. You can run from the secret desecration with shame’s sad flotsam


The paper seller’s ragged call like John the Baptist prophesying price of oil lost homes, job woes lopsided spreadsheets Your bad news is gleeful good those with immune plans survive

Shape Shifters

Tonight you tell out the whole of your Story how the towel was thrown in

Solar Days of Fruit

Solar days have come and everywhere there is fruit little round suicides of morello cherries and damsons spattered on the pavements.


I'm stargazey and you have now gone nebula, a cloud of waste freshens my forgotten depths with a wild-cat cry.

Structures (Or why things don’t fall down)

Kindom Brunel knew the implausible would stand Being buffeted by winds and doubts of The Great Western Railway who only believed When supports fell away. And the boneless and blind worm,

Sunday on the beautiful doomed Aylesbury Estate

The rain pools on the roof before dripping twelve storeys down the stairwell; slowly like Sunday’s sorrow on the heart.

The Last Grandparent

I thought my faith superior to that funereal talk of being together and the dead dog snapping at your heels. I am not laughing at your simple faiths today. O God

The Red House


The Silence of the Bees

Last night I had a dream in which we were scientists. The world was falling apart and people were looking to us for answers. The disintegration started with the honey bees.

The silence of the bees revisited

One night I had a dream in which we were scientists. The world was falling apart and people were looking to us for answers. The disintegration...

This Coma

My world behind eyelids is shapeless now there’s a dark wall no thing can breach. Empty, bloodless spheres ascend interminable sleep. You whisper...

Tribute to John

The friendship I shared with John and that spanned twenty years was on the surface an unlikely one. He was thirty years my senior and we met on...

Wadi Cherith

Ravens came at dawn with bread and meat

Winter of Discontent

How I covet the stucco fronted lives; soft lighting, desirable postcode of those who had chances and better parents. The acerbic brew spilled from my cups filled pages with resentments.
Gold cherry

Blackberry Jam (revisited)

You said the perfume's to die for; I'd die for less, but remember holding tired onto my father's back in late September. It was a strange brand of...

A pilgrimage of sorts

Just as you round the corner on the ascent of Mount Pleasant, the huge, concrete circle comes into view. She is crowned with barbs, crouched and...
Gold cherry
Story of the week

First Visit

This is my first visit, and we talk about the things that bring people like us to places like this. But I give nothing of myself away. Even so, she...