ANOTHER POETS POEM

 

the atrocious swan of love*
said the poem

published in landscape

in a book like a calendar

& i stop there
picturing it

a calm river

& brick arch bridge

the image halts 

my hospital rush

* from May, in Shia LaBeouf, by A K Blakemore

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

THE T SHIRT CHRONICLES VOL 4

his t shirt said 

'The Settings Stay On Default 

 So Nothings Ever My Fault'

& theres a comfort there

& a freedom

in the thought 

of the 

unchanging touch

of the 

unfussed user

~

i love to see

an analogue calendar

chickens / ponies / cliche seasons

tacked up

by the fridge

in the clutter

of a pet food

galley kitchen

PICASA MADRIGALS - OCTOBER KITTENS

POINTLESS SECRETS

blank events survive
on
my
flat calendar
but
the Vibes
the Meanings
the Feelings
are
bleached to nothings by oceans of gin
and
the
what-the-fuck mornings
of
shark-eyes bunny-scared on the bus
and
staring inside
hiding behind
mean humour
in
the warehouses of youth and wages

well-fed fear
drove reckless
in
the
front seat

and
i 
kept 
pointless secrets - secrets make Hell

and
they
ate at my strangled guts from below

while i waited 
hoping for age
to
loosen
everything

from theginkiosk.com

WORKPLACE RHYTHM

monday morning - here we go again

tuesday - i hate tuesday's, such a nothing day

wednesday lunchtime - half way there

thursday - had enough by thursdays, nearly there tho

friday - thank EFF its friday!  

also some bastard says soon be monday morning

and repeat