Saturday, 1 January 2000

A Selection of Poems


Wonder Child


My friend’s Aunty Margaret

knew a little boy who

was that curious

he could spend

all day long

in a bucket.



Your ears send me delirious


They’re as foreign as a bat’s radar.

Trumpet like lilies

and remind me of the elves I loved

(who lived in a hollow oak tree).


You say they’re angel wings.


I want to lick one

pup to cowpat

and there is no one to shout, Stop That

or pull on my lead.


I’m not falling for you at all,

I leap. Hey diddle diddle.



Last Night

I was an adolescent with Fat Freddy hair.

Two thick socks for a cock

nobbed down my jeans,

three quarters the length of my thigh.


He flashed fishnet calves, virginally slender.

His double D tits strained his surplice,

nipples permanently erect

acting as tent poles for his wimple.


We danced, combating between

thrust and allure, skirting

the fringes of each other.

Sweat peppered my top lip.


When he suggested his breasts

I needed no second request to grab.

Those nips were something else, each swollen

hard as a dildo’s tip.


I butted my groin, urgent.

Quick to press his palm firm

against my woolly penis,

little finger to thumb, he spanned it all.


Caught, we stopped

as still as this phantom limb,

this g-spot, as if we’d stumbled

upon the ghost of another life.




Neither Up Nor Down



We wait for a bus, not knowing its arrival time;

nor its destination, beyond Up.


After half an hour, we walk

along a road that turns into track


that climbs to a vast green falling away of all noise

except the amplification of water,


the thin call of cirrus

and us.


We turn round before bagging the summit;

fail to feel failure, and settle near a solitary picnicker.


You make lamb tegine; I unpick the latest Cronenberg;

we compare shampoo.


We scuffle, take photos of our gurning,

looking bald and ill. We laugh because we’re not —


we’re only halfway through.