On seeing, without the aid of John or Lear
I uncoupled the two eye-beams
and sent them in search of what
I did not know. This proved to be
where people have their lunch,
corners with not a lot,
and rafter bats.
PIN codes were not my concern,
nor were people in
various states of undress.
I’d liked to have seen, however,
the insides of the latter,
or rather,
the insides of their insides.
But alas! My beams are bogus beams
whose insights couldn’t be flatter.
You come unbeckoned
Sunlight spilling
warming the room
what clouds there were
miles to the west
Tree people
Pine Box
First the incense,
then the Pie Jesu.
“His life was a bell,”
the deacon said,
“and the Spirit the clapper.”
(We passed her, pulling the rope.
You rang as we gathered round.)
The sun shone, and in it
I saw your Annie,
hardened but serene
from the long, depleting dying.
And the pine box – yes,
what better wood
to leave the world?
Chris Coppens, R.I.P.
Not now
We cut them loose
But where will they go
when all the world’s waters
circle our shores?
Your moment has arrived
Sports Illustrated
P is for Parkinson
Gracious the meadow
between thought and utterance:
would that we both dared linger!
But some thing bored
mandates completion; hence we stand
impatient with flowers.
Why hurry our fears onward to death?
Let’s stay in this place
we’ve both never been.




