Attached to | details | Setting up home in a | pinhead | or a | hopeful glance | Somewhere in the wider | order of things, perhaps | not the high- | pitched giggle or the | tumour’s cloud | over the nocturnal | city of anatomy | but a calmness | of geometry | the life of | curves and planes | points, not of the diamonds | angles, not of the deer || But not here | Here is | pinning crushes | to a schoolboy | racer | the lush | slump of a raspberry smoothie | in a couple of gulps, the | tentative | trust in language | the scuttle, dive and | trumpet of words || Here is | dent and | wobble | glitch and | creak | Amazons, hidden in a songbird’s | throat | and spacetime | ensphered | in a sick man’s | whisper | What? || Here is | there shortly, here are | certain | grains of dust | in a handful | of dust || Always a | spider | come loose from her | web | and the leap | of the new | tucked into your | certainty || Here is | love | at first sight, and | the long | march of indifference | to rhymes and reasons || Here is | the arbitrary | inflection of mood | and here | is the tunnel | at the end of the light

 


from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

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