BICYCLE CARCASS

the street sweeper
is old as fortitude & roses
& dismounts her machine steed
& smokes & swears & stresses
over
another
mountain bike carcass
abandoned
in the precinct fountains
scuzzy puddle bed

~

i viddy her slog

from a bench outside Boots

wings in the tree

rats down the cracks

Costa cubby belching

steam punk sounds

HALFSIES DAY

now i havent
done the mathing
at all properly
but
around
about
now
i have spent a much time alive
in this century & millennia
as in the last

& i dont know what to do about it
so i am calling it Halfsies Day
& putting it here

ANNIHILATION OMNIBUS

all channels
all nets

into the annihilation omnibus
rode
the
eight billion

scientific sun
& atom tan

~

labubu pokemon & me

telling tall tales 

of VPNs & television

on the glass coast

of a boiling sea

OVERHEARD IN MY NOTEBOOK

the whole Unfinished School thing

[he says 

 half on the nod

 in his retirement chair]

was an happenstance creation

& little to do with minimalism

but about running with the muse  

[he makes finger pistols

 aiming nowhere particular]

think of it as a tactical reload

& a deadly allergy to the baroque

~

ossuary
ossuary
meat ossuary

notebook on my buffed canvas knee

the colour the woods 

look at night
in the light 

of mad yellow flames

NOTEBOOK ON MY KNEE

i write OLD
five times
in the notebook
on my knee

& then TIME
seven times
with this pen
that the nibs
gone all feathery

& next is war
& i write that like a whisper
like this would make
all the tanks & planes
turn into whispers too

& last BOLLOX
eight times
one for each season of the year