Gerald England
ENGLAND’S OPENERS
A blackbird lands A good beer-barrel A man sits in a cave knitting A theatre in Copenhagen Abask the sea-wall Alice was demure and O All the way to Bury Amid the heather Among
TRUTH?
There are 16 million shades of grey There is no black There is no white You have to draw your own line It may or may not be straight There are always mitigating circumstances
THE LAST TIME EVER
1 am peering through blackness 2 am i feel your heart pounding 3 am your fingers running up my spine 4 am my beard between your breasts 5 am sun rising over the pyramid
OCTOBER FORECAST
“Bright with sunny periods Some cloud, occasional showers” Says the local TV forecast. It has been persistently precipitating For more than twelve hours. On the doorstep A soggy mass of pulp Is all that
MID-DECEMBER
A full moon shines Over the morning frost; The lanes are full of late-fallen leaves; Walking across the mulch Is almost as tricky As treading over ice. In town the carol-singers are in Crowding
ASTROPOETRY ON THE PEAK
cocooned in thermal underwear Thick overcoat, scarf and woolly hat To withstand the biting mountain air In the valley below we see the lights Of little houses twinkling in the dark And beyond the