TIT FOR TOE FAT

Poetry reading dumb fear violent air lungs swollen bullion conscription each open indent an indecision plaintive mess of influence yawning mission spinning infringement nuclear albumen one hand spinning wheel palette thinning signals rich gears batter welt investment mythic ocarina intimate washing pellets field recording of another’s past life you’ve got it now or shall we blow our brains on line to line each by each into a tiny crawl space behind the wall of distant bombs unreal charge treacle vapor wet stung grass trellis back up bale to a ball ripened patter spatter on real retail life up at 6:30 to get to the retail park by 9 on the floor enough to hollow beetle backs sumptuous foment of tiny Chinese torrents enough to hear it sparking back against blue lights blocking dreaming red ruin’s smashing into parked car parks each morning level line jumping full of jack flash and stuffed to the gills ah life ah goes on and fucking on big grateful moon car won’t start wait for the dust to settle stick your head in the pizza oven more likely than the next one. 

 

with a little help from JHP

THE FROZEN EDGE OF NOTHING

 

forsaken mastic tragedy

triumph azure-winged motion

years whether square

washing coiled diffusion

beast lead joy

touch deplored moss

large oafish collapsing

exploding wrangle Quaker

wagtail macaroni satellite

garden highbrow cats

passing minaret compressed.

 Foresworn forsooth forsaken 

What for some would be a tragedy 

is actually an amazing triumph of

will a time and motion study 

across years of toil to get this 

square of grass these four fences

washing line pile of bricks

diffusion hob little robin

red beast hopping nothing

so delicate that joy 

wouldn’t touch beneath 

moss covered tiles curtains

resolutely shut at 08:33

collapsing trampoline some things

evergreen the occasional holiday

moss slowly claiming the gaps 

between the large slate tiles

maybe an exploding egg 

or two from Quaker hens

who lay happy eggs

a solitary wagtail rusted escutcheons

of old TV displaced by satellite trails

ornate garden furniture turning black

rough looking cats just

passing through.

 TRUE LOVE’S NOT

Impossible peculiar 

Buzzards soar over rising energy costs

the thing lies dismantled discarded

for the day impossible to penetrate

not expected to

last so long 

over white-hot metal in abandoned gardens.

Break through inaugural demise 

brush smoothly across

tender scar outlines 

worn lightly; 

wood chip poor us a true love’s knot

blown over dusted tops 

to where snap dragons and orchids wink

dreams overheard along power lines

they whisper compressed air

in the brake lines of tipper trucks

carving out each other’s essence

over crushed earth and clay.

 Upstairs lights are on. Wild plastic blasting.

 

A day’s worth of noise pollution

Buried with books 

Welcomed to the after-life

Pour paper backs over

Dog eared constituents

Receiving hands reach out in italics

Arm’s outstretched only the tips remain

Cleave to the book pyre

Burned and gone

Walk a straight line across England if you can

Relics explode under foot

Down ditch and over barbed wire

Grey brown mass of swirling density

Face goes grey with horror

Sandblasted incredulous

Fists poke out of the ground

Middle finger erect

You’re sprung again.

 AS IF HE LIVED ALL LIVES

lines of light awake

each page a mourning 

muscle bends

in dust a flare 

tributary  synapse sparks 

inch forward blossom 

 of  a winter London

 worn inside a burrow

collapsing with every visit

   of nervous chemical corona

angle poised

to come in

And ah, 

so much to each intake 

breathe above fuming vats

our daily intolerance in

following footprints 

 worn over 

             slipping on quick lime 

pulsing at a pace 

guide of the Ganges river

smoothed over acid green 

look down see the estuaries 

                     or look back at the dead

                       to draw out

the living light

  that comes crawling to meet us.

 GREASE PAINT ON THE HORIZON

 

Peel back facts ripple cantina oblige the appropriate 

tea stained come flower, just by blanched indifference escort infusions

past the nettle bridge.

Take off glowing glee banana’s bending time advice 

blurring photo-copied peach credit extensions

from the floor above a hopping with gratitude. 

Work it over slime so now it flickers ragged flesh

glow in the dark fish gore

tufts of swan down duck feathers old tea cups

that old guy with bin full of stale bread

don’t feed the birds

they will explode

oil the cabin let it breathe belief 

cedar alpine squall

laughter by the window 

outside Mock Tudor folly

continuous moat action

lichen body torsion inlet  

we greet each other over many years of silent interaction. 

You: hidden in mist 

and I: misplaced a decade somewhere.  

We sight land we depart once more into the tunnels, Northern, Victoria and so on, emigres of the adult education scene, the late night after work college scene hiding in libraries trying to quietly eat crisps scene  the phone’s wild glow

the wind rattling the vents the flickering at the end of  philosophy.