Toothless, she kisses
with fleshy lips
rounded, like mouth
of a bottle, all wet

She bruises your face
almost, with two
loving tree-root hands.


Midnight. A knock at the door.
Open it? Better had.
Three heavy cats, mean and bad.


It is midnight in the ice rink
And all is cool and still.
Darkness seems to hold its breath
Nothing moves, until

Red Cherry Red

When I was born
I was a familiar,
a black cat, Satan’s favourite form.

Next life – I was in a room
you couldn’t swing a cat in.
Outside it was raining cats and dogs.


We finished with a song on the football pitch
Singing all along on the football pitch 
Had a little sing with a sing-song-sing
Had a little fling with a ding-dong-ding

The mysteries of zigomar

The phone rings
But never long enough
For the Slow Man.

By the time
The set’s switched on
His favourite programme’s over.


This morning I've got too much energy
much too much for geography

I'm in a high mood
so class don't think me crude
but you can stuff latitude and longitude

Let in the Stars

My Wipwapwop, it cost a lot
I keep it up my sleeve
it's great for surfing on the spot
and playing make believe.
It's sleek and snug and mine to hug


In the beginning was the word
and the word is ours:

the names of places,
the names of flowers,
the name of names,
words are ours.


Zoe Zoe
You had to goe
I felt so sad, 
I wrote this poe.