The smell of old ferries
A policeman tells me you are dead
Would you like a ride in my flying-saucer?
The things we have never learned to say
Do ghosts go on holiday?
I would like to blink less and wink more
Sun: the great, amazing sun
I am not too old to have forgotten shame
Our skins grow together
My mother applies a poultice to her belly
If you are in America do we really see the same sea?
On Parliament Hill
I ask about the others
The nightwatchman reading Proust
Eating raw chillies for fun
We need a new slogan and a few deaths
The fun it must be to be an extra-terrestrial
If poems held the walls together
The reptile-Keeper married my ex-wife
When they start blowing up doctors
I the West are Westerns sea-stories?
I have three rabbits but tonight I’m washing my hare