A GARDEN SCENE

& birdsong  

& wingspan mayhem

over all the seeds & sultanas

scatter dropped like a carpet bomb 

& poised & weighted

summer fruits drop

to the rag tag lawn 

of onion grass & black ant canyons

& theres my patio chair

astride lost crossword pencils

& my coffee is here & hot

& trembling in the rickety

& a car alarm

wah wah wah wah 

for twenty minutes

twenty minutes

oh man !

& two magpies yell

at a thief of a cat

LAODED & IMPLAUSIBLE

we swallowed
the
pills
he
took
from
a
strangers purse

& when dawn came

it flashed me

like a subway perv 

& i found myself  

loaded & implausible

on the rubber slabs & bark chips

of a stark playground scene

cackling at the primary colours

of all the swings & slides

& at the browns 

the browns

of the logs

of the climbing frame wood

TV IN THE AFTERNOON

the
thin
ascetic
face
of the hitman

is english pale
in the spanish bright

& his filter-less cigarette
looks big as bathroom plumbing

under the blankest rayban stare

~

let the camera

linger some

on the afternoon sun

at the seasons end

& on the tea

in the gazebo

& the people sat there

& the flowers

round about too

GULLIBLE DRUNKS

in 1989
there was this month or two

when each estuary pub

had a chancer joe

selling graffitied chunks
of the berlin wall 

out the boot

of their mk3 escort

or a borrowed volvo 760

& a small self conscious queue 

formed after last orders

in the car parks cold & dark 

espousing disclaimers & paying

in the heavy stink

of the seawall mud

ICE COOL & HOME FREE

 

the anxiety

commensurate 

in the stealing

of benzodiazepines

was easily alleviated

by eating one or two

altho the subsequent chill

did make me lackadaisical

i kept a caffeinated eye on it

& gliding lightfoot

across the hospitals

egg speckled lino

i managed to reconnected some

with the current work day

& i was ice cool about it 

& later home free

IMPOSSIBLE ROSES, TWO POPLINGS

ease of the past

impossible roses now

tho music doesnt blink 

~

summers falling plums 

tattoo jazz phrases

atop the tool shed roof

OWN YOUR MIRACLE WITH A POTATO

yeah theres
eight billion of us

but theres fuck all else
going on
in the massive black universe

we are some kind of special
own your miracle
& act like it

no black star
ever painted its pets

on cereal box card

with a potato

YOU HAVE THREE HOURS

is

the propagation
of lensflare
in mainstream movies

like heavy metal riffs
in dish liquid ads

& mohawks on the catwalk

proof
of

freaks

winning

via permeation

or losing

via appropriation . . ?

you have three hours

no conferring

please show your working out
extra credit for sketches

NIGHT BREW

 

i feel a pungent

weed-on-the-wind 

kind of loss

& 

seven miles 

of california longing 

when i remember like a power surge

the recurring dreams i have not dreamed 

for the longest time 

~

its a sadness-gasm

its 13 by big star

its accelerator yen

& my limbic system force-stops the day

& frees up room in the panic of fomo

& the hope of hope

for the old maps

of the night-brewed never-was