the Strausian bum bu-baaaam of sunrise
gangs(ta) kookaburras are tee-tee-tee hawing Continue reading
outside…
poetry
midwinter (out my window)
(after William Bronk)
back then was much the same
the scope, the skies:
blues and greens, scarlet cloud-tops
the moon electric on the washing line. Continue reading
Decision tree
in Frost’s wood two paths diverge
— life/regret as
Bayesian algorithm. Continue reading
Into the blue (the Tomb of the Diver, 470 BCE)
winter trees incline
a wall disappearing Continue reading
13 ways of looking at a pandemic
(after Stevens, closely)
I
Among twenty locked-down blocks,
the only moving thing
was the patrol car. Continue reading
The castaways
threescore
A piece dedicated to my on-going hand therapy.
And for your pleasure here’s Leonard Cohen going ‘no more a’ rovin’ (lyrics by Lord Byron) from a favourite album Dear Heather.
on this earth
an ancient comb in the Met.
animals parade across an ivory page Continue reading
Sea | Flowers
Down in the channel the tide inhales and
seaflowers fixed in the surge and swirling
rush wave frantic at tenant fish tripping. Continue reading
admirable words on hand, always
Like all writers, I like words. I keep a list of admirable words on hand and every so often I’ll pick one and say aloud, ‘Yes, quiddity.’ Continue reading
Peter Frankis writes 