Wednesday, 28 September 2016


I looked in all the old places
Where the bones of the dead
And the stones they had become
Slept in each others arms.

Saturday, 17 September 2016

Wednesday, 14 September 2016

Who Presumes?

Who presumes to speak for the dispossessed;
Those who strip them bare like thieves and brigands;
Those who find affront in the naming of their dispossession?

The great unwashed heave themselves 
Through drab days; the poor are always with us.

Monday, 12 September 2016

Ozone Spindle Your Highness

The old dogs have barked their last and gone wild again:
Too many black nights baying at the moon’s dark heart.


I am old now, for a poet
Having four hundred and thirty two poems 

Scrawled in my name.


Ten years old,
Down a lane
Behind the school,
Outside primary seven
On the play-yard gravel,