Look Up

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Concealed in the sameness
the faded blue suit
Clark Kent by day
Who cares, who cares to look?

But out there
when darkness falls
it’s kite-flying breathtaking riddles
out of dayshadows, an infinite teasing
of zetetic minds
unphysics exploding:

The Universe
ultimate mystery man.

Migrations In Memoriam

Autumn, we lay lines,
unfurling across alpine waters,
to flycatch a trout’s eye

we are copper lizards
on rocks trailing
the flowered creases
of Crackenback

Autumns and summers,
we zigzag
to the summit,
always a marking of sorts –
birthdays, deaths, waiting out
open-heart surgery –
from afar

A lifetime of seasons
ago – before I left –
you said
the mountain came down
and swallowed lives,
wanted me to know
that bad things happen elsewhere

as if somehow that would make
me see,

Now, it’s winter –
we’re making virgin
in snow
when the eye
of a raven catches
a gelid reminder
of these invisible scars –

the ley lines
that connect this place
to your passing

Dad IV

I glimpse

your ghost


the sure hands

of a carpenter,

the polished grain

of Oregon pine,

the automatic way I

switch off the light when leaving a room,

the geometric folding of

a newspaper

on the train,


those who talk to


as if they were human,

to humans

as if they were

joy itself,

the cheerful scatting

of a man in his shed,


exasperation when someone goes right

to turn left,

sliced tomato on toast,

and – every morning –

in the shapes

of my


BBC – Horizon – The Ghost in Your Genes

No Jacket Required


draw, paint, sculpt,
create symphonies, move to
mirth or action,
sing with the voice of angels
(or the sublime Ms Fitzgerald),
cure with digitalis,
build to withstand
the aftershocks of a billion


in an instant,

locate true north
of a moral compass,
see the colour of a

beating heart