TUMBERLINA PETAL

optimism

is
like
a tumberlina petal
on a dead dogs paw

but still counts

has to still count

night clots in 

the dark months

blood trail rust dry

in the mountain pass

QUESTIONS IN THE MARGINS

could i 

find the world
this jagged & mad & mistaken & wild

if 

i 

was
an integrated

& functional 

meat & cog of it 

~

if
the
past
is a turd in the bin

then christ

am i some faecal weirdo

for cataloguing 

such refuse

in my field reports 

THAN YOU

someone
younger
dies
& its like the rug been
pulled out from under
& theres no floorboards there

someone
older
dies
& its like the roof comes off
& the ceilings gone
& all the sky gets in

& youre left
naked in space
thinking what the fuck

AGAIN THE SCREEN AGAIN

morning again

&
i approach it again
the screen again
the words again
the wrestling again

plundering any memory

out the knots of the past
for proof of the now

puffed up with coffee & nicotine

next to a still cats snores

~

grey spring day

school morning

& the PE teacher

got the javelins out

for the last time

as it goes

their hi vis tape

faded to a joke

well next we got moved on stat

& out of the ambulances way

expected to go saw balsa wood

like nothing happened at all 

ENTROPY BEIGE

the
urge
itch

& need
to make something be here

that wasnt here before

is unexplainable

to anyone

who never looks at the sky

~

i makes a mess on another canvas
in the morning breeze & sun
scraping the thick colours around

& covering up again
the layers of form

& the layers of chaos

into a thick 

smear & pebbling
of summer bugs & entropy beige