Monday, 31 October 2011


Below the bridge,
brown water - imagine floating,
imagine sinking.

Sunday, 30 October 2011


Pale, dried leaves and stems scattered on the pathway: bleached and shrunken by sun and rain, they recall the bones of small, featherlight creatures.


Saturday, 29 October 2011

Hour gained

Trees flushed with fever,
dry, coughing carpets underfoot:
delirium of this hour gained.

Friday, 28 October 2011


Early morning streets
muffled in a striped blanket
of moon and mist.

Thursday, 27 October 2011


From behind: two chubby, near-the-ground West Highland White Terriers with a short, stocky woman in a black trouser suit - all three, the same gait.

Wednesday, 26 October 2011


A man walks briskly in the rain with two luridly orange shopping bags - a matching pair of bobbing orange reflections in the wet, shiny pavement.

Tuesday, 25 October 2011


A bright red crane looms suddenly above the trees and rooftops, out of scale, like King Kong - the monstrous beast of endless demolition and construction.

Monday, 24 October 2011


The red bus-ticket machine and the woman in a yellow coat: same height, both slim and straight - two bright Brancusi statues on the footpath.

Sunday, 23 October 2011

Whited out

The blue sky whited out -
the light still fierce,
but through a frosted pane.

Saturday, 22 October 2011


The light so strong and, even at noon, so low: every shape and colour - this blue, this square, this curly edge - is distorted, over-emphasised.

Friday, 21 October 2011


As it gets colder, everything seems further away - buildings and people shrink darkly into themselves.

Thursday, 20 October 2011

Tuesday, 18 October 2011


Two tiny girls with bobbing afros,
two tiny voices sing off-key,
but this one is silent -
oh, there are three!

Monday, 17 October 2011


Liquid light
and airy shadows -
Autumn trembles.

Friday, 14 October 2011


In the beam of passing headlights,
the footpath glistens:
it rained, invisibly, before we came.

Wednesday, 12 October 2011


The bus has stopped and isn't starting: a change in the engine's thrumming and in the thrum of voices, which falters and assumes a plaintive, questioning note.

Tuesday, 11 October 2011


Night wind's
restless ache
cries at the window.

Monday, 10 October 2011


A pale, skinny girl in a battered leather jacket and...
oh, a brightly striped and wildly swooping and dipping flamenco skirt - for a moment, everything dances.

Friday, 7 October 2011


Greasy grey paving stones suddenly cheerful:
fallen red berries line the cracks.

Wednesday, 5 October 2011


Brittle oak leaf caught behind a windscreen wiper:
its pale, crisp serrations, shadowed on the glass,
stand out against the soft, reflected street-scene.

Monday, 3 October 2011


Cold cloud hides the hot sun.
Boiled blood slips and shivers:
what cooks call a reduction.