(continue, think more about that journey in a straight line, what it entails, the wounds, the pit falls, the why?)

 

What do you even mean?

Peter Sutcliffe listening to Black Sabbath in his truck passing through the Pennines.

Entrails humming.  Poetry is not the easy way.

Magic light out the back tonight. So euphoric with booze.

Damned semi-colons, they are unnecessary. Watch the sky darken  wonderous greys 

and blueS.

Thrilling like some big sky over Texas except it’s east London.

You will discover the poems you respond to instantly but also, crucially, you will come to appreciate others that
at first may seem daunting or obscure.

Little bo-peep diploma

The poodle bites snap

 

EASY TO TAKE A ROSE FOR GRANTED

 

Food from the PROPHET, please enter your search quarry.

 

fledgling social life dream neighbourhood working on

bureaucracy, so much time the world felt accessible

inviting you to the callous white society so prophetically

glance, comb into a collapse wish to disappear taste loved ones

 

 

dust swirling eyes and ears; wishing the most queer

unimaginable fucking polyphony  and I fear a shock.