UNDAY

another unday arrives

battered amazon style

on the porch of the pale door



they couldnt deliver this

into a bin

three streets away ?

ACTION SCENE FRAG

 

& anyway

blink & youll miss it

but there is an explosion

& the actor

is seen briefly 

flying thru the air

upright & arms out

in the shape of jesus

AN ENDING FRAG

& afterwards

we

slog

hollow boned
up
the 

hill
to the witches condo

where we had hung up our coats

& our gone pets 

are 

darting & glitching

in 

the  

periphery fuzz & snow

of 

the 

early gloom of valley dusk

IMAGINE POETRY

imagine this

on a page

in a book

on your shelf

& save me the emails

& the knockbacks

& all the admin of perdition

DRAMA IN THE RAGING MUNDANE

 

now the marsh fog of indecision
wastes
my
time
again

with 

its 

this or pointless that

morning wardrobe chaos

& i dress in soft whatever

itching

in a sartorial fug

knowing

i will be back

FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OF CAMUS

all
the
philosophers

hitched up their high rises 

& drained their vermouth

& lighting fresh cigarettes
were dancing

~

such relief

from the drudge
they plumbed
is photographed

in the catholic nights

& RISE

think-rolling 

the dog days

over & over

in

the

fitful fermenting fidget

of

another

rotisserie 

night

makes gas in me
i eject now

& rise

getting into it with yoshimi

& the electric rad

PLASTIC TOTEM

we hear the crump & dock

& mournful animal hoot

of the glum giants 

rocking in the brine

~

high cube container ships

race the following sea

running 

offerings 

to stash

& stakeout

under the plastic totem

REBAR

& love
is the rebar

in the meat & jelly gumbo

pressure cooked

in the gone gods
ghost written wake

THE NAVY WAY

 

the eye level fire
of the winter dawn

will make relief art

of the ripped tarmac 

on the deteriorating road

i walk down thinking

of 

earth & light

sun & wings

& all the different versions

of the navy way

PILLS

a new lozenge

in stonewash blue

what is it

i wonder

that you do ?

         anon

to the

dull OSDs

& ivory blimps

of maintenance

i say

friend or foe 

in you go

in  you  go

FROM A HATCHBACKS COPILOT CHAIR

those heavy cloud banks
shouldering low 

over the hill i know

i wish they were
the distant mountains
they pretend to be

& we could climb them
past the ash tree line

packs on our backs

& camp there
free of grit & kipple

in the shape of strings

MAYBE SOMEONE CAN EXPLAIN TIME

 

'we all need a fix 

at times like this

but doesnt it feel good

to stay alive ?'

gene clark

plays his songs

in my mind

like its the only gig that pays he wants

~


gene clark died

just as i found him

in the sam goody cassette tape days

auto reverse !

remember that ?

COFFEE STATION #4

its empty in there

& quiet

but it doesnt take cash

of course

& they put my name 

on a sticker
on the coffee cups handle

so i know who i am . . ?

& yeah i dont like that

but tbh

sitting there reading it 

well

it helped the morning happen

HOSPITAL POP

furious & cold

black swan moments

simple as a singsong hello

simple as a clock on the wall

crash in
upend you

in the early morning wards
wonderful smell of toast

FOOD COURT MUSINGS

if young me from back then
saw this me right here now

what would he reckon ?

i reckon he would appreciate

my silence & the sunglasses

my boots & this hash brown

but anyway
what the feck can he know ?

the jefferson airplane
red stripe & rum muthafecker

all loose change & clippers

shell-top trainers & time

in two hoodies two hoodies

& those gig patinaed 501s

~

well my 

nothing & nowhere 10 AM 

dim lit mall fug morning

of right now

matches his 

ditto

from back then 

oh so perfectly

that together 

we both smile

THERES ALWAYS A PIANO OUTSIDE IN WAR MOVIES

they build ruins on purpose

& rub in all the dirt

& place a dusty chair

in a corner just so

they make a child cry

in a confused soldiers arms

& he pretends to die

on a piano they wheeled outside

theres always a piano 

they wheeled outside

its bullet pinged

discordant keys

emoting too heavy

in the rain machine pour

PM ZONE OUT VIDDY

men like grandad
die in the blood on the beach
in olive drab nascent denim

~

its odd what tv

we watch to relax

he thought

a reconstructed war

his pm zone-out viddy

LOOKING APOCRYPHAL

when your reflection
looks wrong
looks colourised
looks apocryphal
&
looms like a hangover
out the dim glass
action figure perfect
& action figure wrong

you wonder

how was that
ever forged
into something
that worked ?

BLUE LIGHT WEEKEND (A MULTIPLE CHOICE POP)

my 

memories

are vignetted 

with encroaching brown

like 

a; park bench dusk

b; cataract smears

c; a dirty protest

or

d; the smoke damaged

   field trip

   polaroids

   we found in the geography room

   after all the school arson

   that blue light weekend

MORNING REPORT 108

a potted remix
of the past

humps my leg
every morning

before 

i even 

pissed

AUTUMNS DARK LID

in

the
morning parks
liminal hinter

the

golden merkin

of

dewy leaves

confer 

into light & colour

just about 

only just enough

strength to wrangle

wrestle & tangle

with the afternoons 

four o clock dark lid 

SWEET JAM TO SWEETEN

 

seize the jewelled dawn
with whatever hands
the night leaves you

its sweet jam 

to sweeten
the steamrolled bullshit

of another 

flattened 

pancaking day

MIGRAINE HINTERLANDS

the plum trees

mad canopy

e x p l o d e s  

across the northern sky

& the lawns a green 

i have never seen

~

now i sweat blood

only just

this side 

of proverbial

when i try to think 

HIFI INCLUSION

listening
to
excellent music

makes me excellent too

&

i am included now
when my appetites 

had hit the wall

MAGRITTE FIST

now the day is unday

cant-think chunk-blocks

like thick glass walls

& no flow - zenless

cos something bad happened

&

you

are

uncoping / clunky

in

the

wretched immediacy

of

its

magritte fist

EGGSHELL CHILDREN

 

i saved a snail

i saw struggling

on the hot cement 

&

wished
it
was
all the eggshell children
of

the

dangerous

world

but what can a poor boy do

but listen to a rock n roll band ?

TO PARAPHRASE DYLAN THOMAS A BIT

we do go gently 

into 

an anticyclonic gloom

straw grass 

razed to stubble

inside the electric tether

~

meteors & rage 

forked diluted

by bluelight nightlife

& frail deeds 

forgotten drown

in the greenwashed bay

BIG ISSUES

 

make me feel

all

dumb
numb
&

down-low backwoods crazy 

like on the edge of panic

but in a valium bath

SAM BROWNE STYLE (TV FRAG POP)

shoulder bag

 & belted raincoat

tugged snug

 sam browne style

 

about the waist of the spy

MORNING REPORT 105

autumn memories

are layered up in me

like an onion

& the late sun

like knives

will dice it

into an album 

of dusk cafes

& numb commutes

MORNING REPORT 104

& its morning

& already

Time is OFF

the ticking frontier 

the kinetic edge

the tippity-tip 

of the quantum spear 

us in its grey turbulence

play at catch-up

with the millwheel push

faking relevance 

with the construct

of reservations

in the sacred mulch

of our appointment books

MORNING REPORT 103

furious
at
whateverthefuck
on
a
beautiful morning

i swallow it / cough it / spit it

& count sets of five
in math zen
on my fingers

~

& i force-accept 

the yellow-white sun

its indifferent majesty

& unheard scream

its warming jazz

& coincident hug

up there 

in the Great Black Hole

MORNING REPORT 102

 

hard morning 

comes gently

in 

an 

off-white 

scalloped bar of light

swelling 

where the curtains fail the ceiling 

MORNING REPORT 101

waking up
is like

getting 

emailed 

an automated office pdf

& its slow to open

& it shows nothing new

but

is

dense

with

detail

that

overwhelms you

SECONDHAND MDMA

 

vampires must be

struggling these days

from our bad diets

of convenience junk

the antibiotic push

& tricyclic sleep

~

far cry from the rave days

& the easy pickings 

in the hydrated loved-up 

predawn chill & bliss

secondhand mdma

a good buzz 

to take to earth

FROM A SUPERMARKET CAFE

coffee in a cup

&

vernacular pains

researching mushrooms

&

their pros & cons again

funeral home

built consciously 

aloom on a black tarmac rise

ABOUT POST NOMINALS

'hey listen

 i got letters after my name too'

 i say to the room

 of doctors

 & scientists

 & chancers

'ten of them

 if you count
 initialised illnesses

 & i do'

BLATANT OBLIQUENESS

theres
a 

madness
in
the
look
of
things

~

the detail or not 

the blatant . . . obliqueness

& the space 

   just-so

out from the wall

ABOUT A CLASSIC POSE

well i dont
but want to

salute the smokers
lighting up

backs bent
cupped hands

heads down
outside b&m

& that first billow
steam train size

of chugged fumes
eddy tugged

spirals wraith like
on the grey-white wind

ABOUT PAINTERS OVERALLS

 

i

cremated

blue overalls

on consecrated ground

hoping

to find them 

ready & clean & waiting

on a reserved celestial hook

because
i
worry
about
how
naked heaven must be

if we dont even
have our bodies to wear