WET LEXICON

time was
the words
would come on
like a thundering tide

now
i scratch & sniff
round about
a mud puddles edge

for words
that never

wash

away

CARDIA, A TUMBLE THOUGHT

&
heart
pounding

at
nothing
cos

its

morning
again

~

no midnight zen survives 

in the rude 7am

where the ghosts of cigarettes howl

& coffee is coffee & again

BEAKED, A SUPERMARKET FRAGPOP

the

practically padded oldsters
are

trapped treading water

in 

their beaked daughters

me-me-me 

talkshouts of nowt

~

& i imagine them 

wringing their aging hands

all their mdf lives

in the wretched wash

of her whitewater do-be-do

ORANGELOOM, A TUMBLE THOUGHT

the

tombola
seasons

potluck
smells

&
the

dusks

orangeloom
ambience

confuse
my
nostalgias
sensor
array

~

so now how 

am i meant to know

what to be 

sad about today

SPONGIFORM RAIN

concepts risk failing

when grabbed hostage

in the spongiform 

of appropriated words


& i feel 

like sarah connor
when its raining 

in my heart