ASDA ARE HIRING
Little robin red breast
Children dance the static truth of rhyme
Watch the words come up
then
watch them go.
message in a bottle not good enough
salt flakes in between the keys
one brick another mouth is wet
it won’t stand a chance
cosmic reverberations echo
down the line
always at fault
today is the unaffordability of life
COLLAGEN CULT
small pockets of attraction distil attention strongly towards a bend in the road
Without what
first seen in a dream ’87 no lines of communication could alter or deny this destiny
Gothic forest
assumptions based on nothing formulate a skewed world view
Cloth bound
frail at first not learning but curving outwards on an open flat
Your choice
lapping eyes frank marvel manufactured by themselves not owning nothing
Pretend to exist
horribly rusted mornings fast selling parataxis wish we were home
Skiving machines
blasting the scum alleyways alive to the Earth beat
Deluxe hell
the world mouth opens and closes
Your name
shocked ballast discord fording beef stack
Grim bears
lemon suit going nowhere song
Gravel pick
mute basement logic turmoil halt
Sorghum hearts
mormon satchel grab swing past character task
Change climate
gravity swing on glacial starch moraine lifeless assuming follow guard
Red house
lift life gravity mass oblong desultory cock-of-the-rock
Brine markets
distaff you know particle repose flat angst
Change colour
special see-thru outmoded corpuscle
Tense reflect
innkeeper beekeeper crowkeeper zookeeper peacekeeper
Yes mind
polyphonic jest spree now leaning sniggle
Round bend
divest nice hot bath supine palm fronds dividends of time’s welcoming heart shake.
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.
