I’ve rarely written poetry. Songs yes, poems not so much. I can’t remember what was going on in the first few months of 2001, or why I felt it necessary to commit these three short verses to a word processor and save them. They read like break-up poems, though who was breaking up with whom I really can’t recall.
dread
my sense of dread is small
it’s not impending like a train
rather, it trails behind me
like a length of wet, grey wool
where now and then it snags in things,
and tugs harder at my cuff.
jan 2001
the bends
nothing distresses me more
than when a person takes a question mark
and without consent they straighten it
so from love? making love!
another bend now
my u-turn.
jan 2001
craters
it is broadly encouraged is it not?
for lovers to make a gift of the moon
for my part I’ve managed the craters
the airlessness and the cold
when what I wanted to give was the brilliancy
and orbits I planned to devote.
but if we cherish the moon on account of its surface
on account of its beauty on account of its knocks
I’m left wondering now about craters
about what else might be given when two worlds collide.
march 2001
Red's Kingdom 
They are such interesting reduced echoes. They remind me of a mixture of the lucidity of Rilke and the emotional spirituality of W.G. Shepherd, I find, and that’s as unique a coalescence as any. You also use prepositions in the stead of punctuation, which is something rare, if you believe it! I do it, and I think it’s Whitman’s heritage on modern poetry, but those who — for some reason — received a more Eliotian legacy, wield punctuated sound in a very different manner than we. You ought to write more, Phil, you’re of nitid talent.
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Phil , What wonderful poems. So full of imagery which the language only enriches.
So full of soul. xx
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A perfect description of low-level dread. It does follow you around (k)
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I loved them, especially the last two, especially the third.
“but if we cherish the moon on account of its surface /
on account of its beauty on account of its knocks” — that line was my favourite, so rhythmic.
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Thank you, Lia – and thanks to everyone you has said such nice things about these three little orphans! It’s having the effect of both returning me to them and also distancing me from them as I seek to view them as other people might be. This has all been a bit of a surprise – and a lovely one at that.
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I like your poems. I read a lot of poetry and these are good.
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Many thanks, Roberta!
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