FRAG POP X 2

if i might be
as pretentious
to say

i drew
a picture poem
in the garden
today

~

the goalies
thro their shapes

like theyre mapping
points of constellations
in a green sky

the ball 

an enemy moon

IN COMFORT / MENTAL HEALTH

1. IN COMFORT

2. MENTAL HEALTH

HIGH BIRD x 3

1.

high above me the black cut-out of a bird
rides
thermals 
in
circles

far below him 
we are stone and steel squares
trawled greens 
grey strips
a zoned off-kilter patchwork 
of
big dressed bugs


2.

folded and bloated
in
the
passenger seat 
of an empty car
i watch rush hour chug without grace
in
the
cagey nowhere hours
of
late
september 


3.

the blue wall of sky 
crowds
the 
bones of tree tops 
and
the 
church peaks of our roofs

up against it
we are unkillable and dying
in
the
dirt padded danger
of
earths
used 
ball 

 

 from www.shoootinguk.co.uk

OBSERVATIONS IN GREENWICH PARK FROM THE JAMES WOLFE STATUE, 200?

sense the space out there

     over London’s cranes

sense and taste the sausage I ate

     washed down with water

     cost me 1.35

feel the crunch of the paper I sit on

     keeping tourists 

     behind me

     out of my view

workmen - in yellow

     so I can see them

eating lunch with the sun

others – clang and rattle steel

     behind a mesh fence

man in brown shorts lies like its summer

     paper spread out

     alone

     on a hillock

see a single bird fearless

     flying below me

     and 

     a 

     helicopter thudding in circles

between orderly clouds

see the school I’m nearly at

     (not really missing my job at all)

     and 

     London’s new towers

they’re building a skyline 

at 

last

the dome – I feel waste

it’s desolate there

spiked

New Labours sunken Death Star

slim girl smokes alone

wearing fawn

- helicopter’s bothering 

               me 

               like 

               a 

               fly

hear foreign languages

hear phrase ‘naval college’

that’s down there too

     demobbed 

     Harrier 

     poised out the front

feel the sun on my back

     its 2pm

and the shadow of a woman startles me

she’s taking the hill tentatively

power station is quiet

next to a slot of grey Thames

(I live 25 miles east)

to the west

river curves like Eastenders

a brown sail sails slowly

there’s a logo on it in yellow 

     I 

     cannot 

     make 

     out

     smell 

     air

and sausages – want another one

     smell 

     damp

from the ground I lay my paper on

hear digital clicks

from the 

fawn girl 

who’s picked

to snapshot a lady tourist alone

orange tractor like a toy

Heathrow jet whines 

a 

sci-fi 

noise

canary wharf

huddles

its empty floors and sudden towers

its bent windows

     together

     under

     one 

     blinking light

some bird is cackling

from the dark in the trees

     they 

     sway with patience

wood and time

the bulb of the observatory

     lurks behind me

where children flock with backpacks

for the artificial line

     (we stole it from India 

     because we ran the world)

demented laughter

from a 

child in blue

squatting at the fence

looking up 

at his parents

     calling 

     him 

     back

the river

murky – then silver catching the September sun

     [I'm at the bottom of the hill now 

     where the toy tractor chugged]

look up at where I was

see silver lined clouds

and 

the 

sailors 

red ball

 

from en.wikipeadia.org

GARDEN PAST

the boy bouncing the tennis ball
off the bungalow apex
got tired of chasing it roll down the lawn
and
nervous of hitting some imagined precious thing
he
replaced its brand-less turf in the wooden clothes peg box

he swings on a rusting flaking white pole on the old porch 
the kitchen door is long bricked up
and
the concrete steps still there
go nowhere now

he 
thinks
the dead porch
should be much much more exciting
that
it
is

so slowly he goes back inside