THE QUIET TENNIS BALL & THE DERELICT SWINGS

see how quietly
the tennis ball sits

in the fringe
of the lawn
this morning

~

a tier of sadness

arrives 

on the car park air

as you swing wide the door

& another 

washes over you

from the derelict swings

like layers of silt

home now & settling in 

BITS OUT FOR THE DOC

there
is
a
boring honesty
&
pointless freedom

in getting your bits out
for the doc
in the sideroom
off A&Es
slaggamuffin clot

DEAR DIARY

the masonry of the town
boasts silently
by deign of its protrusion

& my black & locked samsung

is passive aggression 

writ flat & blank & lithium 

~

dear diary

today everything 

is humblebragging at me

& it all pulses with ego 

what mad sickness is this now ?

BIRDS & THE MOON

 

the moon is
a neurodivergent godlet

& they scoop the tides
in a regular rhythm

hanging there self evident

in the blue sky & the black

no matter the boot prints

we trod into their face

& i nod to them

& i salute them

like i do with

the yelling magpies

& the murdered pigeon

i buried in our gardens

burgeoning animal 

cemetery plot 

FRAGPOP No1.2

the pressure wave

the walking meat

lay on thick 

is only a cock

in your ear

~

the postman cometh

with glossy photographs

of cooked food

& 

all the numbers

for the approximation

of the above

& he feeds my slot with them

& the hospital letters too