I am

indulging my personal
frissons of

I will

stir the froth on my coffee with
a short-ish-bread
then dip
my finger  in  and
curl and lift
and lick.

I will

sing some
as you pass
my blue beret
(you will remember)

this is   aworldofpureimagination.

I will

at all.

I will


There,  is,  comfort in my head.
There,  is,  knowledge in this denial.

There,  is an embrace in every spontaneous smile.
There is a decadence in brushing your teeth with warm water (…be kind…)
because anything else
makes no sense

or is just

plain bizarre.

4 thoughts on “Mugged

  1. I was sure I wrote a long comment on this poem but maybe it was one the podcast (which has disappeared). It is very different from your usual work, there is something haunting and sustained in it. A different tone which lurks behinds the words. The concreteness of the physical image of stirring the coffee dissolving into a world of pure imagination reminds me a lot of the extended Gypsy podcast where she appears and the disappears leaving him alone on the beach. (That is an extraordinary extended narrative in verse and would make a great performance.) And the ending with bracketed ( kind..) leaves the poem balanced as though there was fear of some other possible outcome. It is in the delicacy and precision of the structure, the kind of architecture of meaning, where each stanza seems to support the other that there is an undeniable beauty. It is a poem of great grace.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s