DESCRIBING TREES

now they axiom
& skedaddle
in their brittle winter debris
bark so dark its noir

& theres something of 

the pop-up book about them
their shapes - almost absences
cut out from the fence & shed & air

quietly mad & still & muted 
renfermé arbre
like painted by a french engineer
with a gall bladder for an eye

FRAGPOP No 3.2

 

& now the day 

has a glare

coming out 

the asylum windows

& the night 

is an absence 

like sandpaper

used smooth

CALL THEM OUT

tear
the
ribbon
out
the
night

make a bow
with it
that looks
like a knot

pull
the
string
from
the  
day

make a knot
with it
that looks 
like a mistake

then throw them on the rug

and read them 
like tea leaves
like chicken bones

like those 
crease lines of coincidence
dug into your paws *

and then call them out
on
all
the absence
you
found
there

then bin the fuckers

or leave the fuckers there

in
case
you
read
them
wrong

from yourtango.com

* ( that you

   still today

   look at

   and wonder at

   with the vague hope

   of a childs superstition 

   you

   never

   fully shake -

   where is it ?

   wheres the money line ? )

LIKE A BATH TOWEL THAT WONT DRY

something happened

dont know what

maybe
a
dream
left
residue
in 
my 
ear 

or a wrong cog
has
found a place to turn ?

whatever

its a good-fit 
and
blots out 
    any
    lurking
    and
    disturbing
    absences

from www.argos.co.uk