UNFILED 2022 FIELD REPORTAGE 3

the dove sways
with its weight

on the topmost curve
of the conifers branch

& the lily twice dead
is blooming today

~

you !  

flower !

you could have been anything

&

obvious & complete 

&

heavy headed in the wind swing

& 

on a bed of hard cold clay

you nod & nod & nod

like an old old man

at another VE day

WHILE IN MY HEAD ITS AN 80S JUKEBOX

after dawn is blue morning
full 
and clear
and born with cars

and the rich conifer
huge
like a Pixar muppet
looms over unkillable blacktop

100 animals behind town walls
flare wet noses 
at a blim 
of autumn draft

and
the orange ball tho silent
still 
asks 
us 
what 
the night did

MEMORY ORPHANS

memories walk odd in gossamer shadows
from tea trees 
and conifer
and
what i saw there in the dappled puddles
and
what you saw there on the bleached kerbs
can never agree

memories walk odd like orphans
like i dreamt them
and grafted them onto photo's
or 
made them up on a bad hangover saturday
covered in gin sweat and horror
and
tho
maybe
wrong and created in blank solitude
i encourage them to haunt me
afraid of . . . WHATEVER . . .
if
i
let
them go