If you go looking for me

If you go looking for me sometime after dark

I’m out with my flashlight, hunting for a snark,

a perfect metaphor for an imperfect poem

so I can bag it briskly and bring it home,

a perfect metaphor, so rare and so apt

that captures the mood, the Magnificat

of the vision splendid I hope to impart,

the perfect, perfect metaphor somewhere in the dark.

That Person in my Head

There’s someone walking around

inside my head

padding around in his slippers

wondering

what to do with himself:

should he write a poem?

read another chapter of ‘The Freedom Circus’ ?

write a witty comment

on Beth’s ‘Wild Sounds’?

What?

Another episode of ‘Father Brown’?

it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t flush

the toilet so often

or go to the fridge.

Look, it’s ten o’clock, I say to him,

could you please

settle down

so I can get some sleep?