TRUE CRIME 4, ICELAND

 

FROM THOSE HOSPITAL MORNINGS

hes tall & thin
or looks tall because hes thin

& his neck is made of hollows
a deep shadow round his apple
from the 

phone stores 

heaven glare

in the shopping malls
level one coffee array

~

he is the colour of antiques
& his eyes are wet stones
& i see the misfires under his skin

i dont know him
but i know the look

from those hospital mornings
& the goodbye souls
on pyjama parade

& ending there

JACKET BYE & BIO

 

without ceremony
my old leather jacket

was retired one autumn

the heft of bottles
had really stretched 

the pockets right out

&

its tortured lining

was in sad disarray 

( my uniform had softened now

  into sicknote rehab chic )

leathers still soft as cream tho

only rigid as a biscuit

round its cuff sleeve holes

oh the things it has seen

& the stories it could tell !

also - the zip is fine

DOMESTIC POPLING 4, A PILL PACK POP

 

MOVING WATER, A PILL PACK POP

OUTDOORS WITH THE BEES & FLEAS

 

i found
in the garden
a sarcastic rose

when i was 

only searching 

for magic

NIGHT IS STILL STILL STILL

the night is still still still
despite our degradations

dark mist dripping
from wing mirrors
& the red berry leafs

how difficult / how impossible
i have found so many things 

when so easy they should have been

DRAFTED TO EARTH SERVICE

&
tv show wikis
&
video game wikis
&
mushroom microbrands

hijack my honest internet research 

& anyway 

i was drafted 

to earth service

so none of this is on me

i needlecast with no fatline
too scared to look at my EEG

I SHOULD BE EMPTYING OUT

the

white noise lingers

like

a forgotten subscription

raging 

in the downtime

when 

i should be 

e m p t y i n g   o u t

~

its almost voices

its almost harmony

its a radio dial 

ghost-jimmied

to beige space static

its the 

homey hum of landline dial-tone

swollen 

with the noise of the world

faceless

anonymous

&

blue

OR THE CLOSEST I WANT TO

 

i reckon music

is

the
closest

i will get to god

or the closest i want to

it marks the world

arse to the light

&

flowers for the moon

COOKIE CUTTER EGO VEHICLE

i am old enough
movie-jaded enough

cynical & hungry enough

to overcome my initial dismissal

& appreciate the comedy sidekick

the hundredth time around

if the talent is sound

in the 

cookie cutter

ego vehicle

hollywood

sequel

landscape

CHINESE JADE

& with a cigarette holder
made of chipped chinese jade . . .

its morning again
&
the
grey dawn is birdless
over the typers
flat & empty beg

DEPENDS IF ITS MALNUTRITION, HYPERTHERMIA OR WONDERFUL LONGEVITY THAT GETS ME

on my deathbed 

will i regret
not worrying more 

about the gas bill ?

or will i 

be thankful 

that i wrote down -

'on my deathbed 

 will i regret 

 not worrying more 

 about the gas bill ?'

as

part

of

some

kind

of

effort

poem

thing

CRATER & COPSE

yellow crime scene tape
striped black
is tugged tight round the trees
of your 

self esteems

crater & copse

& your ego

ignoring
forensic
findings

blocks the sun just so 

into another 

golden halo