Into the Walled Garden HTML version

fall upon the earth and chooses
one step after another,
wherever they may fa ll,
wet or dry, and trusts that he will
walk straight into the heart
of the target tomorrow,
or the next day.
As Old As Geoffrey Boycott
Hot summers when it never ra ined,
the grass at the Rec worn away in goal mouths
by size six football boots carried ho me
in a Woolies paper bag, milk c rate towers
in dens in the woods at the back of the new housing estate,
the Oxhey boys, stone fights, ma king up stories
about your bruises in the bath,
bikes, play ing cards in spokes,
being Geoffrey Boycott down in the alley,
finding hid ing places in buddleias
and spying on girls on swings
Second childhood, time to spare,
a mac over your arm in July just in case,
keeping to the path,
bloody hooligans ma king noise,
vandalism, hoodies, knives and guns,
Victorian values and arthritic knees,
feeling as old as Geoffrey Boycott,
and the alley is blind, a darkness,
full of brooding branches,
muggers and cut throats,
littered with copies of the Da ily Mail
blowing on the winds of too much
bloody change.
Battlefield Beads of Black
An eye upon the world below, barre lling left and right,
swooping and stalling, tugged and blown
above long eared grasses that turn in tidal sweeps,
green seas, where poppies raise their heads in swathes
of scarlet ribbon. Beneath the spin of aerobatic
house mart ins, hills roll a way in manoeuvres,