OFFCUT POSEY No 32

now i am the man 

out in the garden
whos waving at all 

the planes sliding by

there they scratch pale stripes

in the stonewash sky

that grow - undulate

till it looks like 

fine beach sand looks

after the tides 

~

all the city airport

pilots know me 

i reckon / by now

& they radio each other

'hes got the blue hat on today, over'

or something like that

SKY AND MEMORIES AND LAWN

from aceterrier.com

  

  a
plane out of city airport
racks
up
a
giant drug line
across
the
dusty blue - i can taste the medicine tang
             in
             the
             back of my throat

cotton-fluff like the good stuff
       from 
       southend jackie chan 
       on
       a
       199? 
       saturday night kitchen counter

  beck and mercury rev 
  on the player

  the 
plane shouts out 
science and speed - always a marvel to me
                    looking 
                    up
                    and
                    up 

the lawn creeping over my boots
and
the 
clouds
falling into rainbows

from telegraph.co.uk

NAKED WASTELAND BLOOMS

the garden is noisy with birds 
softly rattling their news
and
the metal thrash of mile high short haul planes
heading into city airport
is
only
a
drone hum
down here

i
sit here for dead-blank timeless hours
still as a burnt-out car
gently buffeted / cleaned / awoken
by
the
noisy quiet 

( my naked wasteland is full of blooms today )

a
chewing roar throttles in - a circular saw grinding roof timber
is
reduced to a soothing balm
by
my
armour
of
hedge and trees

maybe i'll sit here till i die

my
last
cigarette
rolling smoke
up round the brim of my hat
up
up
to
the
vapour trails
pointing to city airport

battle of the bulge vapour trails from library.umkc.edu