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poem

Nineteen eighty something

Asked for one grain on the first square, doubled for each of the sixty four, he laughed too soon, not having done the calculation. Pondering the game, the possibilities, at first near infinite and narrowing to none, the masters sit, earth turns, the clock ticks on.   Through desert dust storms, thin figures walk, appearing, […]

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poem

Manchester: Oxford Road Station

The moon crawls over the stars, a great snail that leaves its glistening trail in secret places. I break it in a puddle with my toe. The lovers unclasp stickily; they left the waiting room to grope in privacy. The signal swings up silently, the image in the puddle joins like mercury, and still the […]

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poem

Condor