Archive for April, 2012


The Minotaur’s Freedom


In here the fields are lush and warmed,

The dew is soft, the light is gold,

In here, within this head of mine:

This wasted, wicked, murderous head.


I’m free to wander where I like,

To trace my family heritage,

Parade around the castle walls,

To fly: if egrets take my thoughts.


I’m cut adrift of time in here.

I sometimes think I hear the sea,

And other times the hooves and herds,

Then once a year I’m paid in blood.


The ones out there seem full of dread.

They seem so trapped, they’re better dead.


The Minotaur Hunt


You get a single ball of twine,

A single sword, a single chance,

And every single step you take

Is one more step towards your fate.


Down there the air is thick as rock,

The cold is rotten, damp with slime.

The smell crawls through you,  coats your mind.

Down there your only friend is fear.


And in your hand that ball of twine –

A point of day imbued with flight –

Like air in lungs it has its time,

And step by step the ball unwinds.


You hear the breath and know it’s time.

You stop and wait for death’s red eyes.


Grassington Minotaur (I)


They saw the beast and not the man,

Forever circling: hooves and feet.

And lowered down and round and deep

They heard the moans and not the grief.


They sucked the poisons from below,

The core of earth, the heart of rock,

The seams of endless, twisting stone.

They opened sluices, stoked the fires.


They built their world to last through time

On lungs of arsenic, fields of lead.

And in the galleries, banks and schools

They built their wall around the dead.


But now within the maze of mines,

The beast and man as one arise.