COVIDEO SNAPSHOT THOUGHT POPS IN A GREY NEW WORLD 2

unhacked verdant green
vignettes our
empty road chemist run

the sun says hi & goodbye

in
the
same

5 min
frozen-chicken-exchange
two-meter-apart
ma & pa

strange
stand-up
doorstep
visit

LEISURE PARK SONGS

90s radio station
rolls 
out
the
rose glass

frisco distracted at the time
these tunes are balm to me now

~

rain tattoos
with intention 
on the hatchback roof

its hurried morse
i strain to understand

~

this lead heavy bruised sky 
over the 
leisure park
rainbow neon

well my gut interprets it
     as warning
     as dull omen

     & 
     i send
it straight 
into my spam

~

&
as we leave
with our chicken

the hatchback wipers rhythm 
a 
machine composed
sustained coda

i wonder what 
all the kids here
will see 
& do 
tonight

from twitter.com

FIND MEADOW

where is a great empty space 
a space
where politics is irrelevant 

antarctica ? 

with herzogs aztec king
and lovecrafts 6 foot penguins 

anyway
my mind conveniently left me 

the birds shat onion grass under the apple tree
and that bee big as a golfball that got inside 
well i got him out again

and
i
wrote something 
something good enough
something worthy enough
to read aloud
in a soft english meadow naked all the way to space 
coloured with nodding buttercups and patchwork dairy cows

i called it wire in the glass
i called it the veal and the chicken
i called it the moon men from mars

i put a note in my diary-
find meadow it says

then i count the bruise shades
in the killed grey sky
waiting for the streetlights to come on

theyre new lights theyre white now
and out the front round the sunflower fence
it looks like theres always an oncoming car

from nationalparks.gov.uk

KING OF THE CASTLE

when i got my own place
and
everyone came round
for
habenaro chicken
and 
freezing gins
i
was king of the castle
with 
Lou Reed on the player
and
effigys on the bonfire

hash and games till sudden dawn

i felt like i had ARRIVED
and
it
could
always
be 
this
way

before 
LIFES heavy feet
and
TIMES erosion
moved 
everything 
around

FAR FROM THE GRABBING CROWD (SATURDAY NIGHT)

8 pm drive-thru

is

an

oasis in the industrial night

and

we’re queuing together for our supper

and

we make our noises

and

our sounds

and

they matter

and

are our song

and

this small car

we

bought together

plays

Radio 2 and Queen

and

drives us back home

to

stroke the old and dusty cat

who’s

tears have dried

into

crust on his nose

and

we

eat

our

fried chicken from its boxes

home

alone

on

the

sitting room rug

far

from

the grabbing crowd

 from brand.eating.com

DELIRIUM KITCHEN

gin glasses overstuffed 

with 

ice and limes

(barely room for a double shot

and

a

drip of tonic)

often

cracked and broke in the small hours

leaving

a

sticky

residue

stuck with chicken bones and green pith

i'd

badly clean in the next lurid AM

knowing

it

would

soon

start

over