Mahler’s Bicycle

Gustav nipped off into town
on his safety bicycle
and as the wheels turned round and round
his thoughts turned to the musical
upon the bars sat a french horn
the saddle a violin
and both the wheels were cymbals
they did make such a din
at passing horses he would ring
his little tingling bell
and at the crossroads he would sing
and conduct traffic as well.

The Boathouse

at twilight’s end
I follow swans
into the stones
where ghosts had longed
to live before
their spirits waned
a boathouse ruined
in the rain,
upon the lake
of reveries
which tempted
from my memories
broken thoughts
of loves forgot
and of those
that I knew not,
but time is ended
love is gone
into the mists
like mourning swans
now the dark boathouse
alone remains
to shelter dreams
from waking rains.

Bookmark, a prose encounter

In the old poetry book,
musty and slightly torn,
which he’d chanced upon
in a cardboard box
of second hand paperbacks,
he discovered
a small, sepia stained photograph
a box camera snapshot
of a girl in the mountains
being used as a bookmark
for the poem “Passion”
by Kathleen Raine.

who was he to remove her?
here she would remain