ONE VEIL OR ANOTHER

like

an

alien

&

taxonomic ivy

blooming subtly 

up

the

stains & masonry

of 

your amalgam memory 

age 

grows

a 

special perspective

that i find impossible 

to competently impart

something about 

the importance of coincidence

the myth of confidence

& the ley lines of the soul

or is that just me ?

anyway
time takes one veil or another

off for dry cleaning
if youre doing it right 

& watching too

PRESSURE ROSE

i have become age

& my head feels beetlejuice small

& i used to be a child

but i ate him

when the pressure rose

on a hair gel

bus stop

morning

ABOUT DAMASCUS

age & its rising descent

play at profundity today

like a road to damascus moment

if damascus is the corner shop

& the moment 

a rest at the corner

on a low brick wall

under strung cables 

buzzing from signals 

caught from the sky

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

IT WAS THE SUIT DID IT

without telling you my calendar age

please take my word for it
when i say
i saw myself 

there in the the mirror today
& 

for maybe the first time

saw not only

the approximation
of a full grown man

but

one

also

still

deep in the uphill drag 

on 

the 

tilt & slide of the earth

~

it was the suit did it

pinning me down

in a pigeon hole

&

pulling my frays inside

CRAMP OF YOUR CLAWS

 

you reach an age &

your world tumbles apart around
your gig-deaf ears

todays eulogies
old dust so soon

in the cramp of

your arthritis claws

~

&

all the dentists look like children

&

all the police look like children

&

all the parents look like children

&

all the children lay claim

just by e x i s t i n g

to a world

i

 am

   not

      done

          with 

              no

FIVE TV POPLINGS

blue blue

electric blue

cuthbert dibble & grubb

~

he can chase trains all he likes

in the dawn afternoon
sun & surf & sand

i will never
trust that horse
with my money


~


i watched credible newsreaders 

age & fade

i saw their 

tanned jowls swell

they STOMACH it ALL 

everyday

mainlining the horror

jesus christ


~


tv eye watches tv sponge
under tv skies

& out the window
well out the window

on the streets . . .

theres a march to begun

~

blue blue 

electric blue

tv flotsam be my judge

photo TV Skies No 71 from the Dagenham Archive

IDIOT MOON REDUX

full moon 
massive & unreal
conquers all the night

she
owns

our

whole

black

sky

looking right in right at me

front door 3 am

she
looks
like
a
fullstop
tonight

~

neighbours hatchbacks are all silver

hedges are all black

one shining cat is frozen still

~

i am unsleeping

full of wine

nothing

to

do

but stare 
up deep 
into the exiled white eye

sick with loneliness & age

trying

to

decode

its asking question
its obvious sentence
&
its silent might

from astronomy.com

GLOSSY PUPPIES

years slide by / sneak by / come and go
they whisper hello and goodbye 
they mumble half words 
like 
ghosts and phantoms 

its about numbers / always numbers / important amounts 
but
the meanings are mashed up
like
plasticine balls
till
all
the
vivid colours
become 
one dirty beige shade
and
veined
with carpet fluff

the months / the days / the diminishing cycle
is
just puppies on a spiral calendar
glossy / happy / dull distractions
hanging
by 
the 
fridge and scribbled on - attempts to decode 
the 
moments
and
important amounts

from funnycutestuff.com

NOT AGE

since turning 40 in a hot sticky summer haze of fever
surgical masks 
and cancelled trips 
there is question mark hanging 
over ever dry dust and fresh scrubbed 
and palm-open or fist-closed face 
where 
an 
age 
could be printed in a bold times font 

i am unable to fill this gap with a number 
but prefer to place phrases there like 

CHILD
HALF WIT 
or ENLIGHTENED
like 
TRYING
SURVIVING 
or SELF-CENTRED
like 
HIDING
OVERHEATED
or WILLINGLY DELUDED

i label in lower case 
always ready to erase 
in the accepting wind-tides of change and progress 
and 
the 
word 
above my head is not for me to write there 
but i do lean back 
or quickly look up 
in hopes of catching a glimpse 
of 
my 
current perceived status