Catching Dust

Perfectly compacted 

Thought,                       

               Packaging to relish & savour,

Last night 

                            the landscape of my youth was flooded.

A green parakeet sat against a pink background of blossom

Leaside on    the Hackney Rivera.

Potholes in the speed control zone

Lime paste pickles jars of it

Black skinned Brazilian

Another book about the redemptive power of swimming

Genuflect on the gregarious outdoors 

Pile up on the M25

Flooding as an “act of God”

Lattice of tiles

Murmuring in your face

Hovering under the skin

It is the swimming lane

Highway that refreshes the most

“smell the flowers while you can” says Woynarowicz; “you’ll take anything when you can’t get nothing”.

Pub banter over and under and over again,

“There’s always reality, nothing wrong with dreams.” And a face full of alcohol.

Stop, breathe start a pop-up shop to exorcize your grief at a life lost living limp lurching

Forward

Pulse chain 

Berger / Bolan / Poe

Locals

Torrential Ginsberg today in the library

Great beat gusts all over the place

Rock star’s pop up shop again

Nose drizzle speaks volumes of 

Coagulated snot amid a tunnel of parakeets that threaten to kill

The landscape is a midden and you are failing 

Killing time with the other bums reading the paper

Educate yourself out of poverty it says but

Stay in your lane

Pedantic steam punks working in the gaming industry

Arcane rituals / abandoned caravan park / ever more aggressive dogs

Standing at a bus stop watching the ebb tide

Work over rough notes etc ….