Archive for August, 2013

Saturday

the ceremony
itself is clumsy, but I
can bring to the mix
a particular style of
je ne sais quoi clumsiness 

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Friday

God is a stumbling
drunk who lost his way one night
coming back home from
the pub — He crouches in the
gutter and people pass by

Thursday

Llandaff Cathedral —
it rises quietly, like
a belief in God

Wednesday

my life’s a pattern
aching to be discovered
— my soul’s a story
yearning to be heard — but my
dear God notices nothing

Tuesday

the seething shadows
of hideous cruelty
— partly remembered,
partly denied — they clamour
for attention while I sleep

Monday

the crime of ageing —
I’m fully implicated
— as most victims are

Sunday

on the road I learned
a certain slyness, born of
knowing my needs could
never be met except by
stealth, their urgency downplayed