Poems by first line

A!
A day so silent
A day such as this
A deep wave of old loneliness
after a soggy winter / with no neighbours
after the ecstasy
Ah, James / party buddy / frisbee partner
Ah, we Brits are happy now
Ah! The unsung beauty of ink
All Hail To Thee! / Oh Mighty Guardian Of The Trans-Kitchen Sub-Carpet Hot Water Pipe!
All winter and all spring I worked hard

All too often we live by secret deals
amble bumble bimble
an older woman / is standing near the lock
And did those feet in ancient times dance upon England's mountains green?
And on the twelfth day God harvested the golden barley
Arise beautiful man from your slumber
Auguries of Innocence & Eternity (mindfulness remix)

because you will be teased by delicious breezes
Beneath the lightning-gashed yet stoical oak
Before my very eyes and feet
beech trees tingling green
Black poodle galloping over white virgin snow
Bloomin' Middle Pleistocene horses
bright waning half-moon

Call ahead to the angels
Can't you see, you myopic oxymorons?
caterpillar sleeps
Come workers, come witches, come socialists, come elves

Dark moon Cape Wrath
Dave was a fisherman
Deep, deep into the ink black night
dog disembarks itself upon my horizon
Do the pheasants know why they are being fed so well?
don’t quite know which one of us is in exile

early hours, fridaynightyawningintosaturdaymorning
early December Western Cape skies
England is sometimes so damn sweet

first born of the garden
from within its gathered folds of gently wrinkled skin
Fuck it, bru / tear down that zoo

Grandfather Fire! / ever bountiful / ever beautiful / ever patient / ever kind

He’ll always throw just one more farewell party
He’s like an old, forbidding, slightly foreboding

Herm, Herm, Hermione
Hobo poet worships the spirits of the hedge
Holometabolic haiku
hooray for water and waterways
how delicious the taste of the weave of the air
humanity is born free but everywhere is in supermarket chains 

I blame my parents
I came
i caught this morning / your electric blue flight
I did not ask to be born a Troll
if you've got an itch
I got a pure love for you, baby
I have become a collector of sea-worn bricks
I wanna be an urban shaman
In the lead up to Christmas
it only took a few days
It takes a few mornings to refine the art
it's 10.13pm and I'm sitting at my desk staring at a blank sheet of paper
It's just before dawn
"It's not biblical!" the priest would thunder
It's when I open your wardrobe

Jennifer Death, the ebony-eyed crocodile
Joy & Woe are woven fine
Just east of Northampton
Just put one foot / in front of the other

Last night I dreamed / I came across a crocodile
Late June, eleven o'clock, the mid-summer sun finally gone down
Let the world be
Like an open book
listen to the ideology of the trees

May you be as happy as that damp-nosed dog
May your dreams be wet and filthy
Maybe: there ain't no moment better than this
me and lisa we don't need no psychotherapy
me and the earth
Mid-morning in the chancel of my village church
Monday morning blues
Most days I seem to know
my duvet and me have come to a loosely monogamous arrangement
My mid-May midday errand to the Post Office completed
My nephew catches my eye / with a question perched upon his ruffled brow

O hommous, processed manna to my soul
O! Yesterday my sweet Fanny left me
Oh, my beautiful boy
oh there were cracks as wide as our smiles
Oh you fuckedup angels dancing on the head of a pin
On my way to buy champagne
open up the book / that will surely kill you
Otter is dead

Platform two
pond

Ransack scrap whirl whisk
rock has met this other rock

she dealt with dirt and glory
She threw the slickest moves on the dancefloor
Sing hooray for the beauty of the bicycle
sitting on a bench beside the Botley Road
sitting quietly, doing nothing
So, this is death:
somewhere / always / even now
Sometimes I feel like a washing machine
Sometimes she comes as an invitation whispered upon the breeze
Sometimes she comes like a kitchen spider
Somewhere between music and ink
spring is sprung
Striding across frozen furrows
Sunday lunch at the Gun and Spitroast and the moment I've been awaiting for arrives

that we find our tails today rather than tomorrow
The Angel of Reconciliation came knocking at my door
the archaeologist downed her tools
The early afternoon light begins to bleed with gold
The Emperor is at it again, parading naked down Whitehall
The firm geography of the island
the meadow abloom
the patient kitchen spider
the old poet sat in the cafe
the purity of the pivot of a hammer happily swung
The slightest flutter of nerve impulses
the sunlight springs off the river water
There comes a time after rain
There's a pebble in my shoe
This being human business, it's a bit like being a bloomin' Bed & Breakfast
this human being malarkey is a dizzying thing
this morn i awoke to the hum of the song of the first frisbee of spring
this world, has it always been this mad?
tiananmen bicycles and tiananmen tanks hurry along beijing streets to different rhythms
To open the stove door at dawn and find some embers still aglow
Today I must go thirsty to the well
Tomorrow being a school day
Tread carefully, Britain
two foxes at dusk

Unmuffle the tongues of the funeral bells
up high inside the mulberry tree
Upon a moonless midnight lit only by Swindon’s sludgy-orange-glow
upon the turning brow of that wintered hill the army finally tired

Wake up
walking along the Devil's Backbone
We used to be hairy and burly
We used to meet front left of the dance floor
Welcome
What is the sound
What is the sound of one poet dying?
When a great royal oak falls
When there are no keys in your pocket
Why would God ever turn one of us away?
When your soul comes a-knocking
William Blake & Allen Ginsberg & Adrian Mitchell all refused to enter Heaven's gates
Winnie the Pooh!
Within each chamber of your belly
Woman, you're gorgeous whatever you wear
woodsmoke blessings embrace us all

You infect me
You passed on to me your love of poetry
you slip into sleep in my october arms
your armpits smell of fenugreek