During the tenth day under a single-minded sun the thickening air conjures shapes out of nothing: dazed rabbits, uncertain insects and something unclear, beyond the trees The mountain shifts uneasily afraid of faith that comes by heat, not light, on…

Read: Heat

No boundaries

Beyond history, when the desert swam in the homeland of martyrdom west beyond the devil’s cave there were no boundaries and when the sand came and the words were written I could see nothing: an indescribable shape and unrecognisable colours…

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Sometimes I step out of the wood on to a straw-covered path: a warm wind brushes the hill Sometimes the woodland ways are too steep, and the square, unbedded stones bite into my sole Sometimes I go on and sometimes…

Read: Boneland

Winter morning

Injecting ice into the crack of dawn, the east wind knocks twice on my eyelids, but no-one is in   This short poem was commended in the Norwich Writers’ Circle open competition this year and appears in their anthology