I saw a mermaid made from sand -
Herring gulls flew overhead -
Fishing boats left the harbour -
Above the lighthouse was a serene northern sky -
A surfer lay upon her glistening board -
Pale sunlight fell on salt rimed rooftops -
Narrow stairs led to louche Eastborough -
Tatooists inked angels -
Soon waves would wash away the mermaid -
Her hair would become a net of foam -
Her tail a string of pearls -
Monday 28 September 2020
South Bay
Scarborough
I saw the white birds above the waves -
The grass bent by the wind -
Here, on the high clifftop, I looked over the edge of the world -
Sunday 27 September 2020
Bempton Cliffs
Yorkshire
I glimpsed Woodend amongst wind torn trees -
I thought about the Sitwells -
Gorgeous birds in their nest of honey coloured stone -
Friday 25 September 2020
Scarborough
We boarded The Scarborough Flyer, beguiled by its livery and steam -
Wallace and I gave clenched fist salutes like anarchist militiamen -
The Flyer hooted -
We saw the sea -
Thursday 24 September 2020
The Scarborough Flyer
North Bay Railway
Scarborough
Rain fell upon the white hotels -
The wide beach was empty -
We walked under dripping leaves -
Then past pale villas -
My skin chilled -
The warm world slipping away -
Wednesday 23 September 2020
Scarborough
Once again I saw the slim god -
His winged ankles were half hidden by rushes -
He wore a necklace made of dewy cobwebs -
Poised there among the greenery -
Staying his flight to hear archaic music -
A pagan sky above The Italian Gardens -
Tuesday 22 September 2020
The Italian Gardens
Scarborough
Lucy's Beach Shack overlooked the windswept bay -
1930's speed kings could have raced their landships across these sands -
Now surfers came here with their keen edged boards -
Glimpsed whilst I stood before the counter -
Brave shapes -
Darlings of the sea -
Sunday 20 September 2020
Cayton Bay
Yorkshire
We followed the narrow lane to Cayton Bay -
Halfway down, I saw the fingerpost -
I remembered how I'd walked this way before -
Climbing Stiles, from moor to sea -
I'd followed ancient names -
Kept warm by the laughter of friends -
Sunday 20 September 2020
Cayton Bay
The surfers were the young gods and goddesses of the northern sea -
Riding the white waves with insouciant grace -
Placing their boards on the tide washed sand -
Slender bodies shaped as though by an ancient dance -
As if they were about jump over one of Poseidon's sons -
Strings of pearls in their dripping hair -
Saturday 19 September 2020
South Bay
Scarborough
I admired the dash of the blue badge car -
The nodding Santas, the nodding Pope -
I pictured myself crashing the gears -
Vaping as I drove up Ramshill Road -
I'd turn on the radio -
Watch the brightness fall -
Friday 18 September 2020
Scarborough
I watched the fishermen unload briny treasure -
Beyond the harbour, wild dazzling waves broke against The Spa -
Visitors lingered by gaudy cockle stalls -
I became aware of the anguish of the crabs
A green crate, filled with still living creatures -
I thought of Dante and the Lobster -
Belaqua -
Those final sentences -
Take into the air your quiet breath -
It's a quick death, God help us all -
It is not -
Thursday 17 September 2020
The harbour
Scarborough
Every morning, dinosaurs walked in Number 47 -
Long necked saurians dragged their tails across the floorboards -
Velicorapters chased yellow dumper trucks -
A pterodactyl would unfold its wings -
Awed, we would watch their play -
A primeval forest would fill the hall -
Wednesday 16 September 2020
Scarborough
I pictured myself in the tower room -
Climbing the narrow stair in the South Bay villa -
High ceilinged rooms below me -
Bats flying past my twilight window -
I'd have an astrolabe on a table made of driftwood -
I'd read the stars in the winter sky -
I'd sit with my books above salt rimed rooftops -
I'd see white ships on the moonlit sky -
Tuesday 15 September 2020
Scarborough
I looked up to see threads of cloud in a pale blue sky -
I felt all my night thoughts washed away -
The cold waves carried me to a marvellous shore -
Monday 14 September 2020
South Bay
Scarborough
The northern girls handed me my cod and chips for six -
Paul had ordered mushy peas -
Last time, we'd queued up inside -
I'd been in deep cover -
A southerner amongst tarry fishermen -
I'd leaned against the tiles -
Nervous in my tweed -
A foxed Cavafy in my pocket -
Sunday 13 September 2020
Scarborough
This was a creative's attic -
The zig zag carpet -
PC as thin and fine as a dragonfly's wing -
Postcards from Rio's favelas -
Headphones for midnight jazz -
A place to lure words to the page -
Saturday 12 September 2020
Scarborough
We walked once more between laurel and ivy -
White butterflies flew before us -
Tall pines touched the sky -
Anne spoke softly -
This is like walking back to Mandalay -
I'm reading Stendhal -
The Charterhouse of Parma -
I've played whist with a capricious prince -
I shall be like Fabrizio -
Wear my long tweed coat with artless sprezzatura -
Wear purple stockings -
Scatter sequins -
Become a hero unawares -
Friday 11 September 2020
The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset
Before we left, I went to see the apples -
The world had changed -
There were angels in the garden -
Heaven's light falling -
Birds sing in the lichened tree -
Friday 11 September 2020
The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset
September sunlight -
Clear water -
Ribbed sand -
These last swims -
They feel like swimming in memory -
Seeing myself in all my skins -
Tuesday 8 September 2020
South Beach
Studland
Dorset
This winter I will remember the summer garden -
The bright grass -
The sweetness of its apples -
Picking them from the tree -
Wednesday 9 September 2020
The Old School House
East Stoke
Wareham
The wood burning stove waits for winter -
Its fire will warm these small walls -
The cold moon will shine in an end of year sky -
Our house will be roofed with stars -
Sunday 6 December 2020
The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset
Any moment my heart may dance -
Race as fast as a hare across a moonlit hill -
Run in the space where magic walks -
Any moment the world may change -
Saturday 5 September 2020
The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset
Here, surely, was a jacket bespoke for Achilles' shoulders -
Heroes might buy their suits in this louche tailors -
They would walk past vaping lounges -
Consider a kebab -
Pass by tattoo parlours -
Sip a cappuccino in The Crooked Book -
Here at last they would be clothed in pre worn tweed -
Demi gods in Christchurch Road -
Tuesday 3 September 2020
Boscombe
Bournemouth
Soft rain fell upon the quiet trees -
Mist obscured our view of silent fields -
Leaves were already falling -
The wood evoked stories dear to me -
The Wind In The Willows -
The Little Grey Men -
The Magician's Nephew -
I remembered climbing trees as a leggy boy -
Mossy bark against my face -
Feeling my heart beat in its nest of bone -
Thursday 3 September 2029
Thorncombe Wood
Dorset
I read the first page of The Garden of the Finzi-Cortinis -
The Polish girl made my coffee -
There was spacy ambient music -
I placed my mask upon the table -
There were no knitters here today, or pensive chess players -
I gazed out the window -
I saw a woman with purple dreadlocks -
A bravo came in, glowering -
I remembered the Jewish cemetery in Split -
The pines shadowing the broken monuments -
The cruelty of the sunlight -
Wednesday 2 September 2020
The Crooked Book
Boscombe
Bournemouth
I saw the Morgan parked on the bright grass -
I remembered Jay's friend, the farmer who had a Brazilian wife -
His Morgan in the icy garden -
The roar of the engine -
The air of the jewelled city -
Monday 31 August 2020
Arne
Dorset
