Uncommon One in the garden of statutes where rules multiply like weeds & stones lie about like scruples every step is a misstep in misadventure my ways are not steadfast nor my path clear fallen fruits ripen towards a crisis break a snail underfoot & the roses shiver disaster crush a flower with your heel & the frogs croak catastrophe offend the sun with a dismal glance & the heron broods at the water’s edge disturb a duck egg in the thick grass & the elms grow misty all

Pond Life If water is the primal origin of all things (as the ancient Greek sage Thales of Miletus supposed), then considering how hard it is to wade through, it must also be oil and pitch, mercury and salt, sulphur too, with differing degrees of power and viscosity, all stirred up and blended into a huge pool of liquid substance, thick enough to get yourself stuck in. But don’t call on the old gods and nymphs of Thales’ day to be your life guards. They won’t jump in and save

Under the World A frog descended eighty-six radical steps to the devil’s loch. There the heron brooded at the water’s edge and the reflection of shapely trees misted in the fly-specked underworld.