after Rilke
After the spoiled summer
grey grey grey
grant us, Lord, this
one honeyed hour Continue reading
dverse
Ars Poetica (on troubling times)
Whilst some
crave release, a break from the mad rush;
others embrace the cage they’ve made —
tranquility’s some hippy delusion Continue reading
Quadrille – The sun itself
Sure it’s meant
to be abstracted at some level.
Continue reading
A delay on the Northern Line
The Night Express slow on wintry tracks. Continue reading
The New Continent
What country, friends, is this?
Twelfth Night, Act 1, sc 2
another tourist-priced town,
shacks upscaled in treated pine and Colorbond® Continue reading
Once upon…
Once upon and
once again – Continue reading
The unrequited duet of the Pacific Koel
he calls
all night
in tones
that rise
that fall: Continue reading
In the fog
The heat reclaims the rain for the air.
Water departs every blade, petal, leaf
to become lucid particles again. Continue reading
The Golden Comb
Frank’s backed up. Continue reading
Not the thing itself, only ideas
after Wallace Stevens
Snagged on the headland’s ironstone the storm drains the bay. The water’s surface is electric (with possibility), rain inscribes Pythagorean forms – trios, polygons, hedrons – onto the second-rate swell. Continue reading
Peter Frankis writes 