Through the Mud (from the book Blue Bridge)A line of robots,We approach a wall of mud,Some of us carrying flowers.The others laughBit when we enter that wallIt is the flowersThat will make us an arkTo carry us on through the darkness,Sailing throughWith our symbols the only lightUntil we flyOut over the fieldsOn the other side of midnightAnd all our wires And bits of metal fall off.-And our souls are bright again,So new and lightThey shoot up –Up to plant our brilliant flowersLike starsIn the face of heaven.

Meltwater (from the book Blue Bridge)Up here. A faceLoses its linesI look to seeThe colour of your eyes …They have turnedTo water.I lean forwardTo catchThe scent of your hair –All I smell is heather.I touch your handAnd all I feel is earth and stones.There is nothing leftBut the hillside’s breastYour flesh and bonesHave vanished.