T H E V I S U A L C O N S T R U C T S O F

B I G L O V E L Y N O T H I N G

Hyde Park Sonnet The roads that I trawl have wrapped shingle around my shoes.

The colour, the shape, the symmetry, Oh what symmetry!

The houses that frown,the rows of bins,

always full never empty, never gone, always plenty.

The shroud of black that capes the roof tops. and the comforting smell of shit

that tells me I’m almost home.

Tulips Swallow hard,

shards of mirror,

c l o t

t h r o a t

d u l l

p u l s e

churning,ridged and trapped

tulips.

T h e l i t t l e m o u s e t h a t s c u r r i e d a n d h i s o n l y f r i e n d t h e m o n k e y w e n t t o s p a c e s o l e l y f o r t h e p u r p o s e o f d r i n k i n g t e a .

How long have I been blind, Sophia?

to the kitchen sink,

to my shirt sleeves that are stained yellow,

to the erratic toll of church bells

that decorate the drawl of the extractor fan

and to the red door we had both grown so fond of.

About tu r n th e re ’s a p edd l e r in th e church .

Damien kn igh t l e y