Hectic dusk, with your

Hectic dusk, with your
squeaking brakes and gusts – you wish
you were Christmas Eve!

Between the dark sky

Between the dark sky
and ground, the city unwinds
a ribbon of light.

Cutting through this grey

Cutting through this grey,
wet and murky afternoon:
bright new guitar strings!

A boy throws the ball

A boy throws the ball
back on for a throw-in, then
turns, grins, and says "heh!"

The cat springs from the

The cat springs from the
windowsill, bolts for the door,
telling me you're home.

Watercolour sky

Watercolour sky:
just another case of life
imitating art.

My guitar strap breaks

My guitar strap breaks
on stage, but like always, stuff
just holds together.

Working hard all day

Working hard all day
while I sit and, next to me,
the cat sleeps all day.

Filthy rain and dark

Filthy rain and dark,
then my desk photo of us
knee-deep in bluebells.

Lines of white houses

Lines of white houses
stand out from the hillside like
chalk marks on a wall.

The northbound train leaves

The northbound train leaves
Derbyshire behind; the land
flattens like a wave.

Overworked, tired

Overworked, tired,
sounding old and worn – that's me
and these guitar strings.

Christmas shopping, and

Christmas shopping, and
the sweetest carol is this
empty, silent pub.

Driving home at night

Driving home at night,
we match a train's speed and both
become motionless.

A silent suburb

A silent suburb:
whirling in a bay window,
two ballerinas.

Earlier today

Earlier today
God upturned a jewellery box
to make this city.

Smoke in the cold air

Smoke in the cold air,
streetlights like cranberry juice
and the dusk is white.

Outside, the cats jink

Outside, the cats jink;
window cleaners dribble suds.
Middle of morning.

Winter is looming

Winter is looming:
I look up from my work and
suddenly it's night.

Ambiguous hats

Ambiguous hats
signify both winter and
arthouse festival.

This rainbow is mine

This rainbow is mine;
nobody else has seen it...
That rainbow was mine.

Bright and cold day: the

Bright and cold day: the
clarity of the far peaks
hits me like a thought.

We crowd together

We crowd together,
defeat in our eyes. This is
Birmingham New Street.

The sound of childhood

The sound of childhood
paddling in the sea – I am
knee-high in dead leaves.

Riding on the wind

Riding on the wind,
fluttering at my window,
a bird – no, a leaf.

The man on the train

The man on the train
scaring us by punching seats –
his dad had just died.

While the poets read

While the poets read,
fireworks go off outside;
rhythms interweave.

Disco neons will

Disco neons will
light your grown-up face. Tonight
fireworks are fine.

My pint to my mouth

My pint to my mouth;
the whirl of the quayside's gulls –
parabolic bliss.

Look at the state of

Look at the state of
the trees – tarted up all posh
just for my haiku.