BUYER PAYS THE POSTAGE

my dried leather

is oiled soft

& 

i am not thirsty

like i was before

&

the bluebird 

got out my chest 

& 

flies there

in the middle of the air

for me & all to see

cool i think / bring it

~

the bluebird 

packed his cage

back into its box

& filled out the slip

for ease of returning

buyer pays the postage

thatll be me / happy to

NATURE POEM OFFCUT FRAGPOP

 

still does sunlight  

punch like bullets

thru the forests 

tightest tendril weave

onto the smallest

mightiest mammals

there so unencumbered 

in a wildflower niche 

THIS IS YOUR LIFE

the past posts pics
of places & people

every panopticon dawn

straight into my brains rusted pan

just like somebody dropped

that red tv show scrapbook

& it lays open on the floor

by my white plastic dosettes

~

then i am compelled

to always run thru
what i can remember

of the person

or the place

there exposed

like i got 

an hud readout
on my cyborg retina

& always i think

i have detailed files

like arnie said 

in that sequel

CANING WAS TRAINING

all the caning was training

for the hard second half

the training & caning made


regrets impossible
&
hindsight forever a lie

MEDICINE WOODS

 

mornings dont feel like 

mornings used to

& night doesnt feel like 

night should

in 

the 

seventeenth generation mimeograph 

of insomnia & sickness 

in the thick of the medicine woods

FUNAMBULISTS IN THE DARK

 

if you think
you are not

walking a tightrope
every normal day

its because
you never
look down

FRAGPOP DUMP

#113

madness is

that breeze
on your face

open bathroom window 2.30 AM

dissolution
coming out the grout


#109

pale organs
ride the day cart

to ebony dusk
& its ivory lights


#101

when you have finished
with your assumptions

let me tell you
i was once
almost
a real boy

NEW WAVE DAPPLE

not so much
rebuilding
out the wreck of it

as rewilding
the fallowed land
left

nude
after
the
wet kingdom fell

& waiting & hunting 

for the zing & smash
of a skew-whiff angles

unusual bond of light

in the new wave

dapple afternoon

A HOLIDAY FRAG POP

 

black mountainside
tequila on the bends

picture postcard valley
portmeirion in the wind

bad b&b weirdness
escaped with friends

SANDWICH FOR THE WIN

the chaos

the mindbend chaos

of 

a 

normal & nothing morning

its layers 

undo me

till brunch

NIKE PEAKED CROWN

there they go again

in their composite machines

like mice
like cogs

marshalled by blood
sun dogs
& ancient firmware

trying for a kingdom
in a nike peaked crown

SIMPLE LIFE CAN BE

cigarettes
never tasted
so good
as when
a black dog
camped
in every room


~

shaving my dome

well
it just makes me feel better

like sharpening a knife


~

you drink at night
& lie in a field
& theres the stars
how simple
life can be

FROM A MORNING WAITING

the vintage 

marlboro classics 

check shirt

has foul crescents
of nervous sweat

atop the hindarm

from a morning waiting
for a blood doctors call

FRAG POP #29 & #33

god module

pina colada

hallowed be my name

~

they queue

for the 

wind phone

round seventeen long lemonade blocks

gratis nappies & tissues

WHAT IT WAS I DID

i wonder
what it was
i ( a slow dive / a pensive peacock ) 

did to time
to make time ( a real geek & goofball ) 

do whats its done to me

~

well thats peeled ego & old grapes

washing machine fluff 

too keen again

on the trouser weave

&

a sand grains fury with the rock face

HELPED TREMENDOUSLY

 

i
never

expected

black & white photographs
of british mobile homes

to be so

medically

calming

& they helped 

t r e m e n d o u s l y

when my brain 

was screaming

out of gear 

BLOGGING / WRITERS WAY / A RHYME ?!

its thirteen years 

since i decided stoned
to write a poem a day 

until i die or dont

& i havent died 

& i mostly do
weekends off

some weekdays too

& typing up the meat weather
& the cracked prism shine

i showed me i was more 

than a sponge for wine

& tho i write enough 

to post something daily
my blog is tired 

& needs a redux badly

& sober now

as a coffin nail

i have evolved i think

from the cocktail wail

& it keeps me honest 

like they say
this discipline

this writers way

& like Bad Clay

i now have books aired

so very many thanks

to the publishers who dared

SPEAKERS BLIM

never
knowing
how long it will take
for my mind to get 

online 

again

i wait wait wait
in the sunday morning of it all

coffee & a folded cat

1993 out the speakers blim

GUERRILLA DETRITUS

shrug off the years

from your chain-smoked

hatchback backache

& brandish your

been-there / done-that

hot-rocked-the-tshirt

age-awarded eyes

like a weapon sheathed 

in a bittersweet

guerrilla detritus

comedown glo

HARBINGES

the elephant cry
of the bin trucks
in a dim grey dawn

harbinges

the existential wordless wail
of
a
breathless 

coughing
uncomprehending 

child

going back to school

in new stiff shoes