Over the stones
Wet the path you follow
As you hit your stride,
Sway side to side and cut your name.
To the sea,
Whirl the stones around
As you carve deeper,
Denting the landscape
Making a new place
Between surface and bed.
Bigger fish live in you now
With gaping mouths
As you reach yours
and thrash happy into sea.
so long ago
in arms long withered
ran blood so thick
so deeply red and brown
and in the shoestring veins
the liquid blossomed onto cheek
and flushed onto chest vivid
I got swept up and my legs dangled useless,
A flailing schoolboy in a wind tunnel careered past like a comet – the brightest kid above school.
The ground was de-carpetted, sods and clods pelted Aunt Lucy and Uncle Abe and the sun smiled on like a gormless div.
kissed the path up to the old church,
round the back, velvet tendrils
curled like Eve’s hair.
The tree grew around Gary and he didn’t struggle, he was glad to be hemmed in.
The walls shot up in growing panels and clicked into natural place,
he was enveloped in the smooth, the woody gnarls on the outside, protecting him from the elements, and a wooden smile etched into his face.
Bill had planted the seed, and when he found Gary set inside so perfect, he wished he’d hacked more heartily with his hatchet.
He imagined Gary like the hazelnut in a toffee, cut in perfect half, and the wooden smile jumped across, rooting, delving, fingers rifling in his nut.
Trees are their own entity and they are, themselves, a home for others.
Roses and violets make a tapestry at ground level, softer than anything I’ve ever touched.
Vipers swim throughout, unhindered by the infectious reputation of a religion that’s irrelevant to them.
Knowing nothing of their star rating and the hatred enclosed in the cultural heart, they silk through, sewing their presence through the garden’s fancy.