02 October 2012


the boy you wrote a poem for
dies anyway
the homeless man
sleeping in a car park
the one you rang about
the one that was placed
in a shelter near Shepherds Bush
ends up two weeks later
sleeping in an alleyway the other side
of the building
you wait with someone as they die
and they go
in the middle of the night
when you are not there
and you say
you say to a friend
"these rivers 
must lead somewhere"
the fairy tale ending
is a fairy tale
your on the 09:39 from Waterloo
non stop between Clapham and Farnborough
and your late
because the train hit the boy or the boy hit the train
and you try to make sense
of all the things that ended
and began again
you smile when nothing is comfortable
violating symmetry
and you hope
into the empty dark you made
until the sky
laughs at you 
with fistfuls of rain


Brian Miller said...

its like rain on your wedding day you know...sometimes life just doesnt add up or make sense but just is....sometimes.

cat cray said...

just is.... happens to be a holy mantra to me, so that made me smile. Thanks Brian x

Fred Rutherford said... it….I think about things in comparison to other events and then create metaphors out of it. Really great job using the scenery's and this notion of randomness, but upping the ante a bit by using sometimes, because in such cases, the randomness is certain to happen. Thanks

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Love this and being a shirt worker can understand the randomness of your thoughts.

The world is different at night and it is so easy to observe the souls we would miss in the clutter of the day.

Anna :o] said...


Found your amazing poetry this cold, gray morning. Makes me wonder about the great talent that exists out there and how lucky and serendipitous the connections I find- especially as I feel the warmth and rightness to sitting here reading your poetry, this cold, gray morning.

I'll happily follow your work. An artist.