June 20th, 2015


This is particular, but also general


White from no sun no blood the wasted hand
lifted from bed and helped to one last touch.
It is so little and it is so much,
We think we hope that he could understand

feeling new life as his began to ebb
in its last tide. Could feel the belly swell
two pulses. There are moments we can't sell
or buy. Our lives are twitches on the web

that ties in love and friendship. You to me,
you to this dying man I'll never meet.
Love is a dance of many running feet
relaying passing batons. And the sea

takes him away and takes us all in time
and all that's left is songs and love and rhyme.

My poem for world refugee day


Home is the place you do not get to stay.
Sea rushes in or harsh men with large knives
take home away and leave you with your lives.
Time robs us all and time can be one day.

You do not get to plan it or to pack.
No tooth-brush and no soap. Your favourite book
left on a shelf. You just have time to look
at all you lose. And run. And not look back.

You trudge for weeks. Road carves feet to the bone
You come to where you're held behind a wire.
Men starve you, beat you, rape without desire.
The price of safe whatever else you own.

Do this to them, we also do to me.
We never know when it's our time to flee.