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It was a lover and his lasswith a hey and a ho and a texting to and frothat o'er the sidewalks smiling passwith ringtones, with ringtones,with dotty..

The snow is yellowround the doorway to the pub;gone, the sound of 'Aaaahh...'

Delicious snowflakefloating perfect then meltingon my outstretched tongue

Twin squirrels leapfrogon the gleditsia branch.Do frogs play squirrel?

…be hot out of anews item – even ifit barely ranks as ‘poetry’ -if it moves a would-be poetmore than many a poem…?Here’s the story: Dr Jill Bolte..

Why should I take your timedescribing in loving detailthe day so many years agowhen I smelt the air on a cliff-top –sunlight, stubby wind-blown salt..

I don’t cry. Notfloods of tears cry.The eyes moisten, but,It’s the rest of it…:the chest heaves unsuppressibly, as ifit would leap out from the..

In the mind, there’s a photo-albumstamped on the cover, My Photos?with a question-mark –the stranger’s profile, immortalisedas they waited at the..

‘What is it like to be a bat? ’Sprigge asked the question first;then Thomas Nagel took it upwith philosophic thirst;What is it like to be a bat?Who..

WhyI asked myself, a child,do those marmalade jarsneed to tell youthey're made of sevral oranges?Any child knows that..

Where does prayer end, and praise begin?Can there really be distinction?In prayer, we believe, we call upon the gods,those forces greater than our..

Where do you go, girl,when you fall asleep?for even when we've spent a passion's time,you, all woman and all animal,and then drift gently into..

This stone: scraps of wet earthstill clinging to it;rounded, greyish; large enoughto fit into my palm as if,cradled there, it’s enough part of meto..

Arrived at last at the monasteryshe listened as he askedwhy are your aspirations so very puny?why do you not aspireto be liberated for the sakeof all..

What’s your ‘substance’, Aristotle, pray? -that in your book On Metaphysics, youshould feel the need to look at ‘being’ morethan Plato said of soul?..

They never teach you this at school;they'll try to teach you reading, writing, 'rithmeticin their own instructed ways;but now, if anyone suggested..

Once upon a time,Jesus, who called himself the true vine,turned water into winein an act of love.All over the world, right now,a million grape..

Wood, leather, metalclank together in irregular rhythm:behind the Roman ploughmancrows and sparrows competeto see what the blade throws upfrom this..

Nouns…they’re dead things; namesyou give to things to render themimmobile; to make them yours, your very own; fit for nothingexcept scrapheaps..

Their grandchild’s silken first hairbrushed with tender love;their own hair, grey or white or gone;household handed over totheir son, daughter..

VaaniiYou spoke of ‘vaanii’ as that speechthat follows true perceptionwith exact expressionin that glorious inner soundthat’s followed into..

Ask a saintor ask a balloonhow fullnesscan be emptiness;how joyful they both are!*[leaning on Rumi]

Two or three months backmy little finger caught in a closing hinge;could have been worse…since then, the nail’s beenevery shade of..

You can’t get really nearthe Beloved Friendwho some call Godwithout a sense of humour;humour; and paradox:sadness brings humility,humility catches..

That’s what she called it;surprised that, as musician,knowing how a piece of musicsets out from, and finally returns tosome chosen ‘key’ based on a..