DREAMING WITH STEPHEN & JOHN

they flee from the city
with feet lit crimson
& headlights in their hands

& happy clouds will love you
& the storm clouds match your gloom

& the stark scaffold of nude timbers
where words dwell with their ink 

welcome you in quiet moderation

then spurned

with no why 

they chase you 

thru the mist

to the beach at the end of the world
& you lunge
at a loss
into the weak grey surf

& you land home
to the windows & the colour
& what 

you say 

in the 

stephen king & john carpenter 

was that ?

OFFCUT SEGMENTARIES

my bones & brittle ideas

rattle like pills

when i am shook about

out in the porkish gales

~

rainy day opiates

in the kitchen bin now

left in the pocket

of a dead mans 

fleece lined 

winter shirt

~

premium regimental gloss

yes - premium regimental gloss

now the colour got back in

AUTUMNS DARK LID

in

the
morning parks
liminal hinter

the

golden merkin

of

dewy leaves

confer 

into light & colour

just about 

only just enough

strength to wrangle

wrestle & tangle

with the afternoons 

four o clock dark lid 

FLOWER GAGA

their weak colours
trying to pop
under the colourless sky

the pale daffodils
all face west
& into the rain

they exhibit
the dumb bluntness
of brainwash

& the faded appearance
of sweatshop knockoffs

weak unbranded dye

there is one tho
stood shorter
& rude with yellow

& i feel like . . .

. . . i feel like 
i should rescue it

yes

i will do that now

MULTIMEDIA FYI

fyi 

these poems

that i fold into the electric river 

are multimedia pieces

i assume 

you provide music of your choice
& look to nature
for a light show

colour

texture

&

context

as & when

you

find & read