Bungle Jump

bungling jumping

without a cord to bounce back on

we splatter the sidewalk cafes

with our coffee

and our poems printed on napkins

or smuggled in tea bags

without coffee we shudder in withdrawal

symptoms of the hype to type

the tip of the stereo

tweeting the twits to

face the books while

playing tag my picture so you can

key that word in my lock

I’d like to unfriend you my friend because

I’m so hot I’m a he-male

but she’s only into e-males

yahoo for her

she doesn’t know what’s she’s missing

running her g-males up the north pole

where-when-why even gentle magnets go crazy

pointlessly poking through an open window




Christmas is supposed to be a time of joy and festivity for parents especially those mums and dads with little ones toddling about. But sometimes life throws you in the deep end without a lifejacket. Sink or swim… I was recently contacted by Heather, a powerful mum diagnosed with mesothelioma who decided to swim, and survives to this day to give hope to others…

To swim through serious lifesaving operations,

To swim through the possibility of never seeing her baby girl grow up,

To swim through perhaps her last Christmas…

Read more about this amazing woman, this wonderful mum, this role model for all of us parents with little ones we care so much about. Here’s a link to her blog – please check it out for inspiration and for ‘humbilification’ in the parenting department.


‘Scene’ in Taiwan #1

A family of secondhand fridges

stood warm and unfriendly

like the orphans they were;

soldiers in a line, FOR SALE,

ejected from the kitchens

of families on the move,

dented stainless steel

proudly rusting at the edges

at an angle on the tar,

guarding the side of the road

from thick yellow lines

and dashed white ones,

shut doors carry hidden shames and stains –

in public they’re ignored by all but me

a small stone #9

bottled dreams held gently like ice cream on a hot day

my baby sucks and swallows, greedy for more

to her it’s just warm mother’s milk

to us it’s her future and more

out of dust

And your angel dust is dry you say, Right?
Because that’s exactly what I thought.
I know I said to you, “I would never,”
But there is more for us to do in this life Again
But not Until
I tell the things you need to hear to You.
My mother told me to try again, So I tried

And failed and failed And failed
Until after some years apart it is here we meet Again.
And when you couldn’t settle your fairy dust, But I did,

And when I tried to be there for you, And I was,

And when I say I’m in love with you, And I am,

Right? I thought I would never again, until you,

So I tried and failed again.

But I did try again and I was a failure again.

But I did try again and I am not a failure anymore,

I am your husband now, and what is more…

We’re making mud babies with your dust and my joyful tears!


and out of the dust of sleep
there rises another angel without wings
wrapped in love
thirsty for peace and milk

my baby awakens

another treasure stirs beside me

golden in the morning

silver at night

my wife snores musically

so out of the dust of sleep we travel

to the land of milk and honeys

wrapped in life’s generous hands

hungry for more kisses and smiles

my life is perfect


Sitting here with the wind as company

We speak of rustling things

Dying leaves whisper as they scrape a living off the road

Dust and grit head for hidden corners and the privacy of edges

Trash of the carelessly forgotten kind contort into bullied shapes

And our voices are carried before they fade to whispers to shadows to nothing