31.7.11

30.7.11

bouquet

he stands with the bouquet at arm's length, as if it comes with him, not from him

29.7.11

taste

these grapes look tired and pinched but they don't taste it

27.7.11

doodles

the beams of the new roof go in like a telephone doodler cross-hatching the corner of their page

26.7.11

fallen

the leaves we cut fall beside those that severed themselves

25.7.11

burst

on the black-eyed susan a short burst of butterfly

24.7.11

grey

sunday's monsters were grey and billowed and despite having no apparent mouths consumed the best part of the day

23.7.11

still

still life
a photo halts
the flow of blood

22.7.11

reach

this cat never tires of trying to reach for butterflies

21.7.11

20.7.11

19.7.11

train

shaky film of a steam train, his reflection caught in the green paint gleam

18.7.11

smells

when she's gone
the house smells of her
drying mint

17.7.11

rain

all day downpours - even my favourite songs about rain get washed away

16.7.11

two

on her forearm
those two freckles
one darker

15.7.11

moth

tall man
pale hands cupping a moth
back to the night

14.7.11

paper

leaving the free paper in the letterbox - one end peeking at rainclouds

13.7.11

decorate

black flies on glass beads decorate a lilac lamp shade

12.7.11

ragged

today we are smaller poppies with more ragged edges

11.7.11

sky

a break in the treetops
filled with sky
and the sound of planes

10.7.11

photo

the years have not just grown the child but coloured him in and sharpened his edges - more of a scribble, less of a scrawl

9.7.11

half

half a day moon - she leaves sooner than we think

8.7.11

boxes

Two boxes. One full of light bulbs, the other books. One heavy, one light.

7.7.11

recycle

I recycle old papers that claim to have my poetry written on them.

6.7.11

sky

to the south they are scaffolding the sky

5.7.11

beans

he brings five beans in a plastic bag - our own still small as punctuation

4.7.11

birds

on the head
of a rusty penguin sculpture
a sleeping pigeon

3.7.11

3

page 3 - just as I read about the plane one passes over

2.7.11

key

barely a breeze to shift the shadow of the shed key

1.7.11

creaking

4 am – I listen to the house creaking as it listens to me – both warmed by sunrise