(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.

 

GIVE MY REGARDS TO BROAD STREET

 

rude cuts against the morning 

 

sound. 

 

waters melt into ice like fruit; a 

 

slow unfolding push a closed 

 

fist through the last frosted

 

bonds of memory, rocks unfurl 

 

floating into a surface line of 

 

intent. Sutured sonics, silent 

 

unboxed holed up at a dizzying 

 

post. 

 

 

The dry-out pay off.

 

Bee buzzle awesome revenge for 

 

that’s a nice life, let’s wreck it.

 

write down to give it away 

make an illusion to boil soup, water out on long stilts covering the high intellectual pathways flowing on narrowed capacity, prior notice awards narcotic boredom 

the literacy 

we crave.

reverse lines curtains opened  

 

sax billowing out of the frame 

 

recline considering what they 

 

want. 

 

Recycle distress, 

 

that you are known to others 

 

twisted over nylon mix 

 

retardant fibres in waiting. 

 

Slam cartons, cadavers and 

carrion over the lid. 

 

Gracious to wake all channels 

 

alive attuned receptive competing 

 

adrenochrome flowering in 

 

bloom. Valiant within the context 

 

of history.

 

In situ sweep soothing flux supine at its core. skin quest flaunts bone recumbent limbs make living material matter

something

simple sleep mastery answer memory each one waiting for the time of death to call, from the sky, from the skin, from the cells, from the teeth exploding. Each on the heel spur avenues of ancient brush. Classic tone multiplier resultant track back, ingrained emulsified. Stream energy passed on burial mound broken tectonic hip forest. Pink adrenaline ice bath drop off the edge of the world? A bolder silhouette cast across mauve brown jettisoned signatures; the stripes of first markings foisted out knuckles dragged hard across granite curriculum. Waking bone snapping future less care all endeavour anguish. What would be your plucky posthumous wish: readings reveal mass culture mining pertaining to extraction, haulage distribution, logistics hub so on and so forth. Cloaked over grey aluminium hoods; pre-sale longitudinal wave guided daylight, locus humming data scratching codes describing lives. The car park tyre centre, the try out lounge, the mobile seed bank the original organic salvage yard. Superabundance of hyperactive willing; this modern discourse devotes itself to rapture. As the skin peels back hold a mirror against the humming force; observe now an armada of containment lanes bound in an infinite rotation of the earth. No smoky back woods language here just words that join each essence to an instance. No poets jacket draped over the arm. Smouldering task books, matrix of intent, hexagrams strung with bland power. 

keep the sunlight 

 

out let my plants wither 

 

 

water just enough to keep them 

 

alive. 

 

 

 

 

PAINTED SHUT

Wall of books, matrix of intent, desire overflows strung taut with bland power. Hexagrams, 

A healing oracle of saline intent; now lateral stochastic in and out of focus, built-in display. 

 

Mocking at the nape, I prefer to keep the sunlight out; let my plants wither to the point of collapse 

 

then give a little trickle, just enough to keep them alive. A mordant ordure. 

 

 

I saw you distant in a dream. Across the playing field you could not see me. I got close but kept my distance. vague figures from my past appeared out of focus. The ground was rolling fresh cut grass, not quite flat. I kicked a football back to our spot. I was surprised to see you, it has been a long time since we met. I hope to go back and revisit this dream. Maybe we will meet again. The sky clouded, immense with something immanent; posing questions not necessary to answer. As if in this moment we could access the infinity of our conscious Being. 

 

Origami wild grasses gassing air talk passing glance the swish of fibres. Hunter gatherers 

Chance observant to obliterate ruins; now all over tremble on stairs upwards amiable featherweight, gummed to distinction. River-wrought run on nepenthes grounded spun form fervid pleasure sense. Tangled essences that is your ephebe: eat chocolate biscuit for lather sate dress-coat worldly sense hearing. Tearing helpless abandoned by or so they thought. Continue with reticent steps over the threshold of this new alliance. To be seen is surety that such whole heated space gives breathing a new limit, in thought and in deed.

Harem sacrum in the old haunted lay by. It used to host a jointed burger vehicle painted chairs elements of madrigal garden pubs. White plastic weeded earth-bound tarmac pot boil diffuse damp water break tides swinging into market spike, deep collagen espousal; you know the curry meme. A clattering we will go. Like lines drawn in sound or looking without looking it’s a trap to make us feel good. Being of course the whereabouts that from here on in becomes the greatest and most serious test of all. That which belongs outside any fictions we can dream, and at all cost’s attention must turn to median weight investment strategy to make a quick seal.

 

moving through a circle 

a line of trees 

daffodils ring around

Two alone

Plastic movement blown

red white across a moment 

on past arrival

also rising heart rate

a distant helium balloon 

has made an escape.

 

 I’m moving through a circle formed

On one side by a line of trees and

The other a ring of daffodils around

Two tall trees alone

Through this moment of movement

A red and white plastic bag is making its way scudding

Along a line blown across my path; continuing on past

My arrival and departure

Look up through the aperture of heavy heart rate

See a helium balloon also rising also blown

Sad because it was probably some kid’s but happy

That it has made an escape and new destiny awaits its arrival.

these celebrations are

puzzle books through a prism, 

smash

Open your fascinating mouth 

                   let the words out

to live is 

a privilege of water

return 

Wrapped in muslin anchored with rock 

 Boatmen out              into the middle confluence

All is chaos

                  gas 

                    Bubbles up

 a last communion.

---------------

Scratch dust card camped out 

Mutate marble slab work 

bothered incline skip loads 

early A.M. prospecting metal mongers pass hard workings

colossal in ideation tumultuous grey brushed steel developments

In concierge work; vaulted spectral hypostasis mineral gated

High authentic ceiling hinges if

Only we could stay awake long enough to care

Then  spill down over concrete walkways succulents

Lift up as if to speak; towards the afternoon take tea dissolve and fall into shape

If no punctuation and long shadows forming are your thing then please

Apply in writing.

 

 

THE BATTLE OF MALDON

 

Was all lost at sea then

Still fighting the battle 

Fleeing from invisible Norse men

Drinking oblivion for its own sake

Downing pints of dark matter 

“All my life I’ve been riding, these ranges” sings Robbie Basho

Sinking in the black mud of the estuary

Rough hewn glossal warbling 

That hovers in the middle distance

Like a rare plover or maybe a sky-lark even

Familiar roads uneven surfaces belonging to

Nights freezing into acid dawns frost clicking un-frosting

As the sun gets out from behind vast bilious clouds 

All the lines and edges sleek well-defined skittering

Chemical hues sheeting out of blurred reflections

Patrolling the peninsular

Sleeping marble lions 

Have to escape from daily

Prison of metaphor so here

We go there it is crouching like

A wounded cat poised

To make a go at it

Supping the air giddy at the 

Overwhelming resource of the words

That everyone has missed something so obvious

It must be a trick of the light.

 

ballast of cold concrete 

Cooling shafts, hemmed by fast moving metal

it got left behind

spikes of reflective glass 

History holds on 

Hidden tiger

 crouching shit 

 

London arboreal

Camp out

on the roundabout

Balfron to the west

Gutted print works

Tech glue glistens

Overhead peaks penthouse

Spa hole remnants

Of a festival look 

At what you see

Robin Hood robbed the robbers

They brought my wallet back

Carved out gouged out of rock

Curvilinear to the A12

Where the roads split one

Diving under the Thames

Dishevelled curtains announce

Uninhabited but voices

Bounce asdic from tunnel to

Foot well span sky walks

Sky cities dreaming

Above the flood plane

Sea man take refuge 

Stolen mermaids resurface

Decades later still swimming

Your Chinese is on its way.

JUST TO BE AWARE

Sun fired feet colder still than

The face watery under years asking

For forgiveness over garden fence pellucid vegetable patch 

unfolding plastic mini museum

Treasure hunting roman mud.

 

The vehicle of the body

Driven by what you know or don’t understand

Is an attempt to remember; to bolster character this case study

This casement laid down by alcoholic insecurity

what you know gleaned or gained,

Form sudden thoughts of nights dead headed 

Sprouting out of mossy dew mornings

of fog lifting to name three things

You remember, have a nice life departure running out to a waiting lift

Throw possessions in the back, drive on

Walking through the village watching temporary traffic lights blink like eyes up

And down the wind on the masts clang such a warm sound on a cold night

So detached it’s frightening so strange

Almost unbelievable now

Rushing in across the flat peninsular nuclear lights aglow

Each one in their warm house just a few feet away

Steady in that doorway pull

Up a blanket suspend the rising tide

Back here again as always floating

Into the night.

 Shock and matter

Insinuate each other’s mutability

Marker pen empty sertraline packet mini figures clay beast papers 

Tight belly fat sounds coming in from all angles

Must approximate blood pressure submit

Some things to address the lightness

In the heart, those reoccurring dream people

How cool would it be to live in a hut?

Like Lorine Niedecker 

To shit in the freezing woods at dawn

Breathing the sounds of water from Rock River

Like the irreverent haiku poets 

Not giving two fucks

About today’s home schooling

Or being the best you can be, or

The fastest either.