MORNING MADRIGAL

the 

autumn morning sun 

like

by an artists marker

highlights whitely 

the rounded plastic

of 

all the waiting bins 

& the cut-out shape of crows

tolerate our machine parade

from the slanted ridge tiles

of the bungalows

across the way 

SEASONAL POPTART

heres autumn
& johnny goes up the lawn

like an aeroplane
with his arms out

over the rolled gold waves

natures beautiful litter
fragile
small
& crunch

SWIMMING POOL & OTHER FRAGPOPS

now i remember
the promise & glow
of the vending machine

in the foyer
of the swimming pool
on an autumn night

~

we are gestalt meat tubes

wrecking our kins carbon

with the bold fonts 

of hysterical doctrine 

~

life is

the search for

the perfect trouser 

(a pair with a silver lining)

& optimum towel proximity

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

SEASONS POP-FRAG

waiting for spring

so i can wait

for autumn again

MEAT DOWNLOAD

 

jagged & drunk

we had fondue
on the balcony

& watched 

a hundred trains 

roll into waterloo

in an autumn 

that was winter 

too soon

~

& later 

stretched out 

on the living room rug

i watched 

upside-down 

out of the window

at the  h - y - p - h - e - n  flow
of planes 

into heathrow

counting my hangover 

  d

  o

  w

  n

JACKET BYE & BIO

 

without ceremony
my old leather jacket

was retired one autumn

the heft of bottles
had really stretched 

the pockets right out

&

its tortured lining

was in sad disarray 

( my uniform had softened now

  into sicknote rehab chic )

leathers still soft as cream tho

only rigid as a biscuit

round its cuff sleeve holes

oh the things it has seen

& the stories it could tell !

also - the zip is fine

NOSTALGIA 101

its a fragile bubble
thats flown & blown  

down

the

thumb tack travellators

hostile architecture

when septembers lowering light

is

budding & brewing 101 nostalgia 

to 

bloom & boon autumns brutal whimsy

of 

the

sad-happy memory jags waft & blast

OFF-PEAK PLAN

 

is there

a better 

morning plan

in the face of it all

than

an 

autumn sunshine 

front seat 

off-peak 

dlr ride

to 

a

city

zoo

from londonist.com

POPS OF DUSK & NEWS

POEMS

should read them
if you write them

said the piano child

i read norse i said

in every autumns
carnival death



NEWS IS DUSK

putins pants
on back to front

or so it looks to me

theyre purple like night

purple like dusk falling

on
adequate
gas
supply



WOODEN MOON

sounds like
news headlines 
herald winters
nuclear dark

in
tom waits
left-over
gravel voice


DISAPPOINTED JOURNO

dylan in movie set caravan

interviewed - he portraits journo

for
his
own
fridge
door

from rollingstone.com

PICASA MADRIGALS, AUTUMN EVERYWHERE

stretched out

on the

summer brown lawn

its always

autumn

isnt it ? 

somewhere in meat hq

PICASA MADRIGALS, PAINKILLER PANTING & BOLTED BONES

POP #1110a & 1110b

the past cold-calls
like its got a hotline

i am bluetooth synced
with yesterdays mire

it 
whispers 
passive aggressive
breaths
of
happenstance and blame

i unplug

i look forward

a whole twelve feet

to supper
and the wind-down warmth
inside our walls

~

autumn burns down
your heart locker

and everything gets out

and everything dances an old dance

in the low swung 
sepia
sunlight

IT FELT LIKE CHEAP SPEED

OUT N ABOUT

PROOF OF CONCEPT

TELEGRAPH POLES

(INSTALLATION SUPERVISED 

BY GRANDPA DAGENHAM 

AN UNKNOWN NUMBER 

OF DECADES AGO)

WHITE NOISE

NATURE AHOY

AND AUTUMN CAME

im windows 95
im capricorn 1

im the gaps in the headspace

between here
and the sun

~

and autumn came

and
it
said

i deliver you 
your happy-sad yesterdays

on
a
crumpled golden plate

from youtube

DREAM PHOTOGRAPH

'the blackbirds are rough today

like ingrown toenails

in an overnight jail'

charles bukowski

i was pleased with myself
i had taken a good photograph
it was as if i had forgotten about it
then
found
it
on a bad flat day
so
i was actually almost elated
like i had made a diamond 
from an ordinary bathroom turd
with talent
and
mad alchemy

the photo was of a boy
on the street
an xmas morning

he is small like a mouse is small
flats tower behind him
he is watching an old car drive away
maybe like its his innocence 
leaving inevitable as a tide

there is something
of the poor little rich boy
about him
something of an ending there
on the empty street

he seems deep in events bigger 
than his learned posture
and eggshell mind

but its the man coming into the frame
stage left

hurrying
like a late beginning

guilt
haste
even love
in the blur of his legs

that gives the picture a life 
and a story

there is a paper wrapped package
in his arms
somehow there is no doubt
he is running to the boy

its all of it in those old shades 
of delicate and faded 
copper and gold
like an autumn that went too close
to the sun

their clothes are formal
too formal
and as i wake
i realise i never took this photograph

nor is it a memory either

it was just a dream
i was never there

and neither were they

i only photo my back yard hedges
and the mean birds out there
eating
my
grain
then flying away again

civil war child photo for sale on ebay

TWO HEALTH POPS

      DYING LIGHT

      our soft pools
         cloud
       in
 the  unkillable crematorium autumn

     our tunnel mazes
       clog  
     in
       the
 carehome  winter

   ( all the plumbers have been deported )

  but our memories
      shine  brighter
  divorced from reason 
         from  their wild edges

 age drenches them in a rose coloured sun
      
       now 
    everything was  always     
         a
  widescreen  childhood summer

from en.wikipedia.org

      SUSTAINED

   yesterday i felt a 3.5 out of 10

      today i am a 4

   i  hug my wife-elect
 i  squeeze our retired cat

       i  write down  
   w h a t e v e r
   i  can  think of
 watching the weather and the sun

 i pick a movie
     a book
   a spiral scratch 

 a slice of timed art is time out
a journeydream in other skin

  these Everyday Miracles = sustained

       tomorrow 
  i will be prob a 4 still

  or  maybe a 5.6 . . ?

  and  thats ok 
    today

from livewithcfs.blogspot.co.uk

THREE POSSIBLE REPETITIONS

SEASONS NEVERMIND

i
write
without
drink

no one ever did a harder thing

and out there
autumn
dies
in
gold



TOMORROW IS A PLACE ON EARTH

i
thought
if
i
stopped drinking
i
would
die
in
the
flatness of the world

but i didnt



ETERNAL STORIES

the footlights now
are
a
nuclear glow

the actors

desperate

carry
on

from flatearthscienceandbible.wordpress.com

FRIDGE ALWAYS HUMS

houses heating noises ARE autumn
  click-clicking and tickling
  thru
  old pipes again

and the fridge ALWAYS hums its benevolence
  and 
  smug necessity
    behind
    the everything forever

and workmens drills from over the back fence
  pierce me like knitting needles 
      their hard steel pounding
      thru
      startled cement

and the fridge ALWAYS hums
  blank face happy to wait
    he
    is
    the
    stillest thing
    that ever was alive

and the radio plays a commercial classical station
    cos
    thats ALL the radio will play

and the postman posts WHATEVER
  thru the letter slot
    but 
    when i go to collect this WHATEVER

    i forget 
    
    forget in the hallway

    forget me and forget purpose

      brain 
      fart 
      SUPREME

instead i am reading Al Purdy on the toilet 
    where i can hear
    the fridge humming ALWAYS
    chilling 
    infinitum  

 from aheadinthesky.bandcamp.com