ABOUT A TSHIRT

'daddys
 got his
 big boy
 knickers on'

rages the twisted dude in the awful film

but thats no matter

anyway as

i am absorbed
by this tshirt 

i dug out

from long ago & musty stasis

its on my lap now

& i finger its guts

it is hard-packed 

with drinking ghosts 

& smells of the silt

of an old depression

COCOON

what kind
of cocoon
is this

i ask

where you cant think
cant even dare to think

of all
the things
you cannot anymore do

~

then

in the sagging gusset
of the afternoons bluff

night is here

MORNING MADRIGAL

the 

autumn morning sun 

like

by an artists marker

highlights whitely 

the rounded plastic

of 

all the waiting bins 

& the cut-out shape of crows

tolerate our machine parade

from the slanted ridge tiles

of the bungalows

across the way 

ABOUT WRITERS RESIN

i sweated 

raw plasma

writing that

thick like syrup 

like spruce sap

hefty globules of it

my glucose of the soul

~

anyone else 

need to change

their writing shirt

when the morning writing is done ?

ABOUT A WARNING

it is impossible
to give
this warning in time

despite my efforts
to build
the appropriate machine

from deck chairs
& duct tape
& qualcast parts

but here it is anyway
for what its worth

so listen up kids -

be very careful
where you are born