haiku
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another noon still standing in my father’s shadow
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lighting cigarettes from each other's cigarettes the slow setting sun
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hailstones against the windscreen our silence
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small white butterflies she starts to think it might be too late
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sunlight on grandfather’s whiskers we close the lid
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in the rest home lounge the quiet piano its line of cracked keys
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evening breeze winding through war graves the scent of mown grass
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transit camp dust tracks deepening on the child’s face
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gliding back and forth through the office aquarium goldfish and workers
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in the old folder of accountancy reports a pressed wild flower
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white satin cool against her skin choosing a coffin
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fortieth birthday fastening my old belt at a new hole
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abandoned steelworks a small weed cracking concrete
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thunderstorm downpour thrashing against the window her sweat on my lips
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darkening skies cattle clatter down the ramp into the abattoir
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electric storm out of a dark horizon a raven's eye
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summer thunderstorm filling air with tension she crosses her thighs
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taking the old road to my father's stone the slow tilt of stars
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nude in the sauna the young woman pours water on stony silence
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silent as a mouse the trap
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kissing the widow along her silver neck chain the glint of his ring
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how slowly the coffee drips morning rain
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packing away the baby blankets late frost
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wishing she wasn't cremated Mother's Day
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chemo patient seeking inspiration in a bookstore
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Just before; The dish hits the floor The silence
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One just sits; And blue dawn light floods his poor house.
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"Soprano clear and cool "
and pale violin float;
the winter sun in the cancer ward - a quiet old couple
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old pond - another lily in bloom
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no real reason for a small sadness late white roses
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between downpours orchestral swell through a half open window
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through a wine glass the swaying of feathery grass heads
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wild poppies gusts of music from the midsummer fair
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shadows. a window ledge just big enough to hold two doves
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half moon only broken crackers in the tin
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revision notes brushing sand into the gaps
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the first dusk of may it's suddenly there a pale orange poppy
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dandelions . . . two drinkers unzip by the path
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scrunched-up clouds a blue plastic bag in the nettles
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early spring one morning the clang of scaffolding poles
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platform 9: through the glass roof the shapes of swooping gulls
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sneaking out thru' the bathroom window steam meets fog
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in my rear view mirror the moon on full beam
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hard frost wrapping myself up against the breakfast news
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winter bleak under the rail bridge graffiti blooms
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christmas lights . . . high above the street a skein of twilight geese
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in the walled garden the scent of decaying apples
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another day another apple crumble . . . autumn deepens
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autumn days the weight of my life's unpicked apples
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hindsight a field of cut stalks
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tree burl summer reveals my old scars
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our shadows leaning on the railings on the pond
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wind chime my phone picks up a wifi hotspot
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fallen apples the constellation of the gardener
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forget-me-nots our white dog shakes off pale blue stars
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remembering you cold and warm on the same breeze
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day break half a pale blue egg shell
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good friday the outstretched arms of the espalier pear
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how high into the hillside cemetery the fog tide rolls
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Exposed roots. The tree outside her childhood home
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Punctuation. A rose petal falls from the vase
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all the suns that we can muster winter celandine
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work done my shadow reaches the sunlit laurels
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the window cleaner's ladder leaves two small holes in the planet
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"Oh a cold rain" again fills the river
with circles
Moss on the roof tiles. First one cat then another
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year's end there's a hearse in the fast lane
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geminids a couple of white pills before i go to bed
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double whisky everything glistens in the mist
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overcast until a white moth lands on my phone screen
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wind chime a text brings news of his death
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frost burn high windows blaze with sunlight
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glistening frost the slow blue arc of a buzzard
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roadkill pheasant all the blustery colours of autumn
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in the hedge the lighted windows of a train
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even after 30 years the scent of honeysuckle one summer night
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monday morning ant traffic on the main stem of the rose
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full moon a pear hanging this side of the wall
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starless night the cyclist without lights
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"hawk on a fence post." "first light
"
day moon the jellyfish we spot from the end of the pier
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high summer where the shade stops so does the dog
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not long till sundown into the willows a yellow frisb e e
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another cloudy night i google the moon phase
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sunless days the world locked in a pine cone
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easter sunset a red-tinged cross of contrails
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neatly stacked the scents of sawn timber
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plum blossom the haiku poet's mind . . . elsewhere
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spring sunshine on a high branch a plastic bag puffs out its chest
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winter solstice inside the hollow tree fire blackened
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a cut glass bowl holds the shells of our summers this life in exile
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hard frost - deep in my coat pocket summer sea-glass
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that same music again and again winter rain
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the graveyard our icy shortcut through the winter fog
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icebleak no colour but the rail bridge graffiti
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still life - at the lake's edge a tree's reflection caught in the ice
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november sun - leaning on the old stone wall a shadow tree
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the year's end all those graveyard names carved into the fog
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war memorial snow has almost covered the poppy wreaths
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