SUCH IMMENSE PRESENCE

immediately 

as 

i wake in bed

theres led zeppelin
playing in my head

the soundtrack maybe

to my last lost dream

~

hangman hangman

swingin on the gallows pole

~

its 

  easy to forget
that 

  music is  i n v i s i b l e
cos 

  it has such immense presence

DO YOU WANT TO BUY AN AIR FRYER ?

i 

think 

the poor & ridiculous

targeted ads
& shopping recommendations
that mildly blight you online
are maybe on purpose
to fool us
into thinking
we
need
not
worry

about 

this

creeping threat

& off we go 

in our gorpcore

& our mad boots

into our picture world

forgetting everything

while everyday
all it does 

is feed & learn

SHORT TERM FORECAST OK FOR NOW

without glasses
i attempt 

to divine
our fortunes
in the blur
of the hallway

coatrack

i see 

a gentle disorder

of earth shades  

smudged

&

edged 

with 
vibrating

sunlight gold

OVER THE MORNING BED

the mantle of time
hangs heavy
over the morning bed

everyday is unprecedented

yet the same

& the wind picks up outside
but doesnt care

its ancient language

rattling the letterbox

& 

whistling in the masonry

 

CEMETERY DRINKING 3

the moon
  a bleach spot stain
  on the cloud rug

headstones
  clenched askew
  like old man knuckles

the dead
  gone to ground
  no more waiting to do

the darkness
  smudged me indistinct
  under combover trees
  & wrought iron arrows
  & hallowed dirt
  fed booze revelation
  in the meaning dearth

come dawn
  squirrels beat birds
  to dew heavy crumbs

GONE GREYSCALE & COOL

heavy loss when

the orange & saffron

electric blue

starburst sunset

streaking like a laser show

over six miles

of vanishing point

water & waves

is over

the candy floss clouds 

gone greyscale & cool

 

THE THINGS I CARRIED, A SCHOOL POP

in the pockets of my shorts

was
a plastic 

speedy gonzales

i chewed off 

a gifted key ring
&

a folded handkerchief

too big for me

i didnt like to use

&
an orphan mortice key
that i wanted to be magic
but knew it never would

& IN HINDSIGHT FREE

the
fresh & glorious
summer funk
of just-cut-grass

ballooooned

across the school field
in the lie of the sunshine glee

~

water fountain running warm
in the demountable shadow

we ran in plimsoles
kicking straw
&
in hindsight
free

FAR FROM CALIFORNIA

i walked across
the college field
my hopes inside a matchbox

army rucksack / army boots
itchy feet & hot to trot
far from california

~

diffused sun

pollution sparkled
like surf on a movie beach

i am off to raise my cup again
to the feathers in the wind
far from california

~

misty longing
& elegy
plays down the walkmans wire

& took me
with drums & things
off to california

WITH THE FLAG OF THE SEASON

they milk us dry

us - 

the unkillable sea salt 

of the common clay

& manufacture 

a corporate tear
to shed 

when the dog whistle blows

& the reimagined & inclusive 

logo livery

snuggles up with 

the flag of the season

for virtue signallers & bots
to disseminate
across the electric universe
as
per
the

quarters forecast & plan

opiate sop 

for the meta proles 

media teat

WITH THE AUTHORITY OF AN INDUSTRY ANALYST

hmv sells nostalgia now
lps there i ignored 

the first time around

old metalheads
list records in surprise
bruce dickinson ! the kinks !

~

i hear a man
loud & off somehow
tell his ladyfriend
quiet but off somehow
about how he owned a record player

just like this one

& when he says

im glad vinyl is making a comeback

with the authority

of an industry analyst

she answers

who is vinyl ?

~

i take a punt

on a jazz percussionist

with a reduced sticker

its a name i can almost place

& leave
thru the merch blockade

of

tshirts & totes & tat

CAMUS & MALAMUD

if the purpose
of a writer
is to stop
civilisation
destroying itself

like camus & malamud claim

then you
better
look-read
elsewhere
today

im more likely
to hand out dynamite

SCARED ENOUGH PT3

they got us
scared enough

to flap plastic flags
in the destitution winds

at the yellow glare
of appropriation gold

under rain & grey
& a war plane display

for yet again

another king

FONT TBD, 12TH BLOG ANNIVERSARY POEM

 

on the 12th anniversary of 

hatchbacksonfire.blogspot.com

here are some notes on making a book -


the poems
  found-poems
  from 1970s redacted oil reports
  &
  hollywood haikus on n95s
  exploded & trimmed to size

the binding
  hospital monofilament sutures
  &
  inherited nylon fishing thread

covers
  cut from the skin of my unused shoes
  &
  out of my drinking jacket
  retired now
  from the team scotch days

other
  coffee rings in abundance

  speed sketches 
  font tbd

YOU KNOW WHERE

the empty bottle
sits there

like a phallic rocket
spent

selling me more
with its label

~

dont smoke dont smoke dont smoke
the official dope
said ginsberg

broom handle
you know where