Category Archives: Door Handles

In The Ice House

I shriek with
the wind,
and move swiftly
to shut the door.

I laugh at
myself in the padding
of this old, mad coat
in blue.

I come from a spinning world where
snowflakes are severed,
destined to melt where they

The fur that troubles my conscience,
I guess, is proud around my neck
in honour of foxes,
stopped short
of plucking feathers
from the air.

A hat keeps most warmth in,
which is a myth I like to believe.
How lovely a cosy mind would be
to cradle,
and sing to itself.

I’m combustible
on birthdays,
with years of jelly and cake vomit,
miraculous in creamy detail
and exhibited in orange fuss;
tissues thrust by relatives
when the embarrassment
catches fire
with concern for me.

Come to me,
you’ll have to, with my eyesight.
Near or far,
I’ll smother your face with damp embers
and, as if you are a mountain climber,
I’ll embrace you with cocoa
in the tinfoil of an alien.

When it is winter,
the wardrobe holds it’s own innards,
to keep inside an outburst of
old-fashioned splinters.

And my spirit and body
dials between stations
of virgin inexperience
crossing signals and voices.

My hunted deer
lamented in a happy song
with hooves dancing
the upset cloth
of stomach lining
from the table.

Look around,
I’d be as generous towards you
as someone who has nothing.

If I took scissors to this coat,
I’d still need to keep warm,
I’d only be ripping fabric
from the seams with which it claws,
not delivering the false economy of pain
to myself either,
that is good.

My boy, out skating, won’t survive the cold
back home.
He didn’t live long enough to meet his mirror,
nor discover how to carry himself,
rounded sharply at wise shoulders.

I shriek because the wind welcomes itself in,
and closes the door with a blast.
I laugh at the habits I still have,
and leave the house without this coat.

There is never anyone living
where the snowflakes are uniquely severed.
It is never anyone’s birthday,
when I’ve heard balloons can float.


Giant Bradley

Sunday 29th May was “Giant Bradley Day” in the town of Market Weighton in East Yorkshire, England.

The day is an annual celebration of the life of William Bradley, who at 7 feet 9 inches, is the tallest recorded British man who ever lived, and is popularly known as The Yorkshire Giant. According to Andrew Swalwell’s, “At birth William weighed 14lbs and at the age of 11 he weighed 11 stones. At 19 he weighed 27 stones and was 7ft 9ins in height. His stockings measured 3ft 9ins, his walking stick 5ft 10in and his shoes were 15ins long and 5.5ins wide.”

By chance, I happened to be in Market Weighton during the “Giant Bradley Day” celebrations and wrote the following, fanciful poetry-doodle while I was there.

Additional Citation:

William Bradley – The Yorkshire Giant (1787-1820) by Colin Westley.
Wikipedia – William Bradley (giant)

Continue reading Giant Bradley

Santa Fe Ghosts

The Santa Fe courthouse ghost was a purported ghost sighted on a video captured by a security camera at a courthouse in Santa Fe, New Mexico on June 15, 2007. The “ghost video” was uploaded onto YouTube and quickly attracted widespread attention, especially within the community of ghost believers.

The mysterious object

On June 15, 2007, a mysterious star-shaped object floating around the First Judicial District courthouse was recorded by a surveillance camera. The image, starting at 7:27:11 a.m., shows a bright spot of light that comes from either the roof or near the courthouse’s back door on Catron Street.[1] Quickly thereafter, reports on the event were posted on various news web sites such as,,, and Yahoo!, and promptly became a topic of discussion all over the country. Soon after videos and images were released to public, a large number of e-mail messages were sent to a New Mexico Magazine reporter, proposing various theories on what the object was.[2] Thousands of hits for the video were recorded on The New Mexican site. The video was later uploaded to YouTube and has been viewed more than 80,000 times,[3] drawing hundreds of e-mail comments.[4]

Many predictions were made about the real identity of the mysterious object. Some people supposed that it was the ghost of Andy Lopez, who took nine hostages at the courthouse in February 1985 after killing the wife of his original victim 20 years ago.[1] Other predictions included a person walking, a male’s face and a spirit. However, common theories were that it might be just an insect (later found to be true), a spider, or a reflection, as well as some kinds of light phenomenon. Vanessa Pacheco, supervisor of the court security for the Santa Fe County Sheriff’s Office, said people’s opinions on the video depended on whether they believe in ghosts.[2]


County staff responding to a water leak at the former Blue Monkey salon and cosmetology school Tuesday morning found the interior trashed, covered in vulgar graffiti and reeking of hair dye that had been splattered over the walls and floors.

“The county hates tattooed freaks and their daughters, I gave them bad highlights on purpose,” and “We put a voodoo hex on this property” were among the phrases written across the walls of the former salon. Others contained expletives and sexually explicit remarks directed at County Commissioner Harry Montoya. Crumpled beer cans, shards of broken mirrors and beauty-supplies littered the floor.


Source: Wikipedia, Santa Fe New Mexican (Article: Phaedra Haywood, Photo:  Luis Sanchez-Saturno)

Get a Free Book of Hungarian Poetry if You’re Flying Lufthansa Today

get a book,
there’s nothing cleaner, freer or cheaper
than a perfect-bound book,
and you with your little ipod,

flicking through the pages,
as a squirrel wearing a tie

might read hungarian poetry,
as i think he might.

there’s goulash in your future,
by which i mean
many delights,

and what a shame i’m not hungarian,
what a shame you’re not on this flight.

Music: Ülök egy rózsaszínû kádban by Metro

on bread and imprisonment

the locks are old and weak;

and suspended in mid-air beside them
their keys,

and the keys to many other locks on
a large gold ring.

the jailer is eating a sandwich. O!
What shall we do with the jailer
and his sandwich?

It is an exceedingly large meal for one person.
This could take a while –
let this poem eat your time.

Power Rangers lunchbox,
bright red plastic

holds no sandwich now.

The red box for breadcrumbs

was once
a jail-cell,
much like this one.