Untrue Stories

shredding

2010-03-01T12:33:00.004Z

yesterday,
i was shredding
the past seven years
in a cloud of paper
and bleach and dust
statements and figures
and hopes and fears
saving only those
that i must.
taxi receipts
project notes
the first time i came
to these shores:
all gone
an effortless whirr
and a waiting black bin bag
tied up, the past
weighs a ton.
yesterday,
i was shredding
the past seven years.

resolutions

2005-04-05T10:22:00.000+01:00

Today you looked at me, and all my resolutions
went out the window -

don't look too happy to see her.
don't tell her how beautiful she is
or how your thought chases itself
across the vast empty hours of the day
to find itself home in her smile.
don't speak for a while
and don't mention the hours
that you spent apart.
she is taking up space inside your heart.
don't tell her you mean to kiss her
as she walks through the door.

- you closed the window
and my resolutions were no more.

another saturday gone.

2005-02-09T16:17:00.000Z

her toes burrow underneath the mat
as she stretches out before me; reaching,
I can almost touch her with my knee.
the heat of her is almost gone
but the press of her fingers lingers on
and I hardly know what would be worse -
to have loved her now, last and best
or to have loved her first.

sometimes we breathe

2004-09-27T16:39:00.000+01:00

sometimes we breathe
into each other's mouths
instead of into the bed.
I smell your smile wrapped round me,
my fingers encircle your head.
come one thirty, it will be four;
and all of our senses undone.
come two o clock, we are no more.

A Thousand Dead

2004-09-10T10:54:00.000+01:00

A Thousand Dead
Bernard Spencer

I read of a thousand killed.
And am glad because the scrounging imperial paw
Was there so bitten:
As a man at elections is thrilled
When the results pour in, and the North goes with him
And the West breaks in the thaw.

(That fighting was a long way off.)

Forgetting therefore an election
Being fought with votes and lies and catch-cries
And orator's frowns and flowers and posters' noise
Is paid for with cheques and toys:
Wars the most glorious
Victory-winged and steeple-uproarious
... With the lives, burned-off,
Of young men and boys.

taken from Slate, 10 Sept 2004.

untitled

2004-07-19T21:25:00.000+01:00

this morning

2004-07-04T12:15:00.000+01:00

morning, sunlight
down st christopher's place
sunday wind across my face
and everything is alright.

she says, this has
caught her by surprise
moment stolen by the sunrise
and we will never be alright.

it's not hard to pretend
she was never a real friend
but this morning's too perfect
to spoil with a lie.

one thread, hanging
between her clothes and mine
I make it to the doorway this time
and everything is alright.

carpets, hallways
finally out the door
can't smell her on me anymore
and we will never be alright.

it's not hard to pretend
she was never a true friend
but this morning's too perfect
to spoil with goodbye.

Blackout

2004-07-01T11:29:00.000+01:00

IN a spectacular blast from the past, ALL the lights in the office have just gone out. Apparently a generator's blown or something, cutting off all the electricity.

Wow... the UK really IS a third world country!

a reflective poem

2004-06-30T12:14:00.000+01:00

night-restless, this you dream:
I light candles by turning stars to steam.
name unknown, your revealing kiss
no game unplayed, no chances missed

ending our time, in laughter and pain
unbending, fleeing lives lost again.
once people picked dreams like fruit, and
stained heaven as sweet as truth.
summers of remembrance, removing winter frost
another promised, dying memory lost
and endeared; forever lie the living -
in fear and hope, lovers embrace the giving.

giving the embrace lovers hope and fear
in living the lie, forever endeared
and lost. memory dying, promised another
frost winter removing remembrance of summers'
truth as sweet as heaven stained,
and fruit-like dreams picked people once again.
lost lives fleeing, unbending:
pain and laughter, in time, our ending.

missed chances, no unplayed game
no kiss revealing your unknown name
steam to stars turning by candles light -
I dream you, this restless night.

I couldn't breathe

2004-06-23T10:49:00.000+01:00

I couldn't breathe today, the air was so full
of Hopper, a fistful of copper in my pocket
and none in my heart. Blue shadows and rain
and physical pain, seeing you there in the dark.

I couldn't breathe today, the night was so brief
and unkind, she sticks in my mind as another old shelter
I've left for the rain. The noise of the stars
Beats down on the cars of invisible midnight trains.

I couldn't breathe today, so instead I breathed
tomorrow, and secretly borrowed the time
that would keep us apart. I spent it in June
asleep on the moon, waiting for summer to start.

(for vanessa)

14.06

2004-06-14T11:52:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, hannah and i
we sat in the park benches on stoddardt square
and talked about not being there.
In the light of the sunday sun
the ground was set against the sky
and the pigeons tried not to catch my eye.
Next year, hannah goes away for good -
to fly somewhere new, live on the run
from all the lives she's already done.
We watched restless people decamp on the grass
and a few who seemed rooted where they stood
before leaving, as restless people should.
I threw some bread to the waiting stares
of the real lords of the city's past
true londoners whom we would never outlast.

untitled

2004-06-08T17:22:00.000+01:00

when i try to walk away from her, i stumble.
when i try to hide, she smiles at me
in the mirrors and hidden places,
in the heat of this april night.

so many memories to not remember,
so many things to not say.
when i pick up the phone,
it's always her number
i stop myself from dialing.
she lives in the little things;
she is the pause before i smile.

if only i could stay silent.

but the words filter through the film on my eyes,
through the silences and the nights of wanting,
pushing against a wall with the strength of need
and sadness, and the mind numbing pain of loss and
memory

she lives in every line of my hands,
in the stillness of the leaves before rain.
she lives in the little things;
she is the pause before
i fall.

4/22/2000
11:15pm