Brighton


bloated red faced once a boy
white corpuscles exploding
friendless good timer plastic leather
on the train alone packs hunt at night

tudor gift shop

carrier bag overflowing churned over crap
expanding garbage delta swim lane
sucked down for optimistic  fun
retro oblivion victorian relics

flung down an old funk shute

street chip hunters greased up bingo wings
temples of rot growing daily
shingle crunch impact wounds
scarred for life by retro carrion

crows prosper gulls too

all is stink and waste bad taste abounds
cantata of grey uniformed servants
broach the back passages of a mildewed bookseller
ants raid a chocolate box grim faced academic on platform

recipe for incipient paper swamp

dime store hierophant rebranded as tantric sage
wounded by too much coffee and cake
juggling responsibilities as junk recycler plunged ready
fresh brewed without god sunk on a coastal fault line

in all this over baked potato wit

shimmering listless strata of white stucco years
encroaching crenelated wisdom booth through money
accept encode wisdom street prophets haunting
hopeless alleyways punching trees camped out in graveyards

all this and more whisper the willows

perplexing thoughts engulf the heat haze
pockets of burley sweat glands results on a horse
careless croissant skewers the gull
its as if were tumbling into the sea

ah well the guesthouse hopes it loves us back.

Thoughts on the similarities between the poems of Mina Loy and the photographs of Francesca Woodman

A wild Magik of distracted moments

 The fearless void seer

                        The formless Unfurled Everything

Uprooted exposed

Bold moon lovers

Summer sealed them, loosed from storage jars of night fevered essence

Imaginings screel up glowing

To break the frame to expose new visions from fronds that stretch to touch the hand

To give so dusty and breathless that holding it was never possible.

Lichens, lagoons and mangrove swamps 

Alligator’s eye the midnight owls’ wing flips the switch

To you looking up from inside ghostly waters 

The Shrunken Art 

Hard flung across the floor

The windows casement loosened  strange

Swooning red faces just waking in a dislocated trance

Of the Anthropocene, what can be seen that’s not a bus ride, snap all ties crumple place in the waste

With the soaking shrewd old lanes, bridleways ley ways, lay waste

The promise of some wine cowering in the corner

Air sucked out how so?

Will lurk and linger long after this tragic history is just a distant memory

Images of space and time provide help understanding smaller notebooks

The marquee glows purple at night and throbs with Talmudic proclamations

We drive around through spectral forests

The car weaves through ghost ways of aquatic drapery

It’s fun to laugh at death across rain soaked boulevards

To run the car into rubble canyons

We drive around past the abandoned library

Its low level architecture ensconced in bougainvillea roughly cobwebbed you can just make out the

Abandoned carousel.

Let us sing of land and dirt

Of generous days and nights of solid sleep

Of thoughts untangled from the weeds like exploding lakes

Quivering