UNFILED REPORT AUDIT

i have a 

folder of 

five hundred & ten
unfinished poems

& all it does is grow

i shall
attach them
to a chestnut tree

with cable ties & a canopy

&
decide 

after lunch 

that they are roses

ON THIS SPINNING ROCK OF TREES

dont
get
me
wrong

we ARE 

brewing up 

a Bad Storm
in a sports direct mug

but lets get over ourselves
& read the room

cos theres an elephant in here
burning

SUPERHERO

typical
of the book shop
to have more marvel than poetry

just when 

i am trying 

to find a way back in

&

be

a

superhero

myself

LEAVES OF SPAM

wet meat plants

that grow in the dark

with the moon shining

on our leaves of spam

well what with 

the sun & the people

being the way they are & all

we count our lucky stars

when the clouds blown gossamer thin

~

& no one knows

what happens
every 

half-arsed 

cranberry night

when all our eyes are shut like clams

but it never stops 

the mornings embrasure gaping

PUNCTUAL SUMMER

summer is on time

& unusual because of it

& 

in the heat 

is a hiatus of things
& 

all the muggers 

lie down with the lambs
& 

crane flies come inside

tired of the wild grasses

& 

we have ice cream

& 

nothing is urgent

& 

everything 

is 

simple & still & poised & placed

as a sofa facing

a quiet tv thats on