The book introduces a poet of great promise.
Water clanks from the tap
like a chain—a lifetime
since anything has moved here
but rats and birds. I see
the last inhabitants as a father
and son, the father
sending the son off to the city
with a handshake and a pocket
of old pound notes.
He might as well be sending him
to bring home the time
without a watch to carry it.
When You Are Moving Into a New House
When you are moving into a new house
be slow to write the address in your address books,
because the ghost who are named there
are constantly seeking new homes,
like fresher students in rain-steamed phone booths.
So by the time you arrive with your books
and frying pan, these ghosts are already
familiar with that easy chair, have found
slow, slow creaks in the floorboard,
are camped on the dream shores of that virgin bed.