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. 

 

 Dedicated to the memory of the victims of Denis Nielson.

THE NIELSON FILES

Under rugged admission

the grave mistake was to go with                                                           MUSWELL

under ground cosy crushed with other’s bones

lime liminal lording it up but coy

in the Black Cap.

You’ll never know the trouble it’s seen                                               HELL

up and down granite hardened bus lanes

scored into the earth clawing don’t let me in.

bleach much of it

frozen ground burial mound                                                           NORTH

mouth breather

ffpppppfffffffff

last breath laps on plastic corner                                                  OF

no the eye’s say

I’M AWAKE.                                                                                NOWHERE

 DOING SO MUCH BETTER NOW

Reflected window mother child

power transfer plant based

refracting today into tomorrow

roof spice tingles on the mouth

exotic vignettes to light up the fancy

glowing at night 

 

 you feed me through a spout always alert

forever catching up on sleep’s ellipsis

never allowing thought to win

another green ambush where con trails

dissect the foxes fucking another day forever

washing grips the line unfolding paradise

taste the brushes branching against the window

doing so much better now

in direct sunlight.

 SOMETHING OF THE CREST

Behind the camera slops of disinfected road rage 

some simple stereo coughs rinse out their first lines like a counter tenor; the ambulance glides over new terroir, humping over shaded bumps, life-saving equipment clattering in the back.

When you inhale that first thing thought

 sleeping dreams sit frozen along siren sacks. 

Eyes are so watery.

Whit an oily salute we convince ourselves on the benefits of survival; self-investment is the business of living. A worthy prospect?

Hard tracks across fell tops trampled something rotten; then it’s home for tea.

Throw some more pulp mash on the burner. 

                                       You’re caught up in the utter gloss of

chip shop promises, same as every other throw away year.

Seconds out from a different life all together; just mere seconds from a switch of destiny. Seconds or cells it’s all a lottery.

                                                               Even your grandiose band standing can’t save us. Come whatever dumb dry month you choose. 

Lost in a cosmos of 

“ let’s let the past eradicate itself like so many green and blue flames.”

Nothing means nothing and it all gets burnt or thrown away.

Anyway.

 NEW YEAR, OLD DREAD

Cold tea touches the lips

blanket already twisted. 

We plot our way through perfunctory time.

Greetings issued out of habit 

litter the floor like so many

stone dead bodies.

Opiate star points on a map 

a city swamp divided in time lags 

the rise and fall of

the pain wave.

Breath is close steaming up the window pane of America. 

A snow drift against the door, no you can’t come in or even connect with that.

Fear sucker punches lurching day break

 tear ducts buried beneath the ice

particles of frost glitter in the iris 

the air heaves itself on again. 

She asks if I’m alright, well I was. 

And so the clattering effort of another one begins. 

 [LUXURY YACHTING:-

 

                                         -:BRING BALLAST FOR]

The energy broker living on solid fats

blast through the mantle to extract dividends borrowed

from times immortal furnace.

You’re rich now, so what you gonna do? Divide up the words

or would it make the homage louder. Hard days of serotonin 

bleed seamlessly into melatonin nights. Opprobrium sought for roadside CPR; though

congealed days request that creation myths be soured first in busted

puddle pipes that bite at what the suction gives.

Wishing away waste water under a schedule that blinks at what it does not know.

Your kin, but this woe is wasting my life; beyond safe words, beyond masked and writhing structures. The next choice would be a promise to the guards of cascading philanthropy, bouncing out of jail, a jet ski on choppy waters.