MORNING REPORT 102

 

hard morning 

comes gently

in 

an 

off-white 

scalloped bar of light

swelling 

where the curtains fail the ceiling 

SANATORIUM OF THE MIND

 

what a beautiful day 
to draw the curtains on

& retire again at noon

into the sanatorium of the mind

sun on the pillows 

the pillows a fort 

the evenings falldown

still 1000 dreams away

FOUND LIST 4

close & heavy

but wind is light

the blanket of early curtains

the arrival of bats

wings over black lawn

its feet

its animal heart

its shadow blimp

dishwasher ?

mend m4

name ALL the cats

photo Corrupted Shape #14 from the Dagenham Archive

SPRING NOISE

well those lawn mowers
can only whine or be silent
and when those lawn mowers are silent
they lay like fed alligators
or like unwound clockwork
waiting to whine again

waiting to chop turf into paste again
into school sportsday smells again

( memories of melting macadam
  steel chair legs sinking
  into the black crust
  while the country dancing is on  
  and at the end of our street
  a cloud of ladybirds
  blocks out the thunderstorm sun )

or they tick and tick dont they
when theyre finished
and theyre left in the shade
when theyre finished
going tick and tick arent they
metal cooling off exertion
away from the sun

i like them best like this i think
its like behind the intermission curtain
of a poundshop steampunk puppetshow

or it could be morse code couldnt it
the tick ticking could be morse code
and they could be saying
finished now back in the shed please

~

birds automatically broadcast
incredibly full of themselves
voluntarily in a cage
built of immediate chatter

like kids in a schoolyard
suddenly here
filling the air
an unfiltered yelling machine
with 100 moving legs

then theyre gone
theyre gone again
theyre herded off in a blink
gone again in the time 
it takes me
to take a piss

~

i breath deep
i stretch out on the bed
i attempt to ground myself
like the sheets are earth
in a west country meadow

i am a witness on a budget
quiet in the face 
of a quadraphonic world

the curtains are cracked
for a slice 
of white sun
for a glimpse 
of green 
turned silver

but is too bright now
but i know too
that it will also 
be gone 
too soon

godiva mower 1920s / from oldlawnmowerclub.co.uk

A.M. RITUAL

  i 
get up slow
open curtains to winter sun
and
blow my nightmares out my nose
  
  i
sort
out
the
cat 
hes knocked his water over again
  
  i
sit at the dusty desk 
got small coffee
south london blues on the player
rest my fingers on the keys
  
  i
swear at the cheap lighter
busted or empty or something
sun comes in as stripes thru the blinds 
  
  can 
  i 
channel anything at all ?
  and
how it will sound
when
  i
read
it
back this evening 
  when
  i
  am 
  all 
different in the hurrying night ?

  

from casatnations.wordpress.com

EXCUSE FOR A CAT PICTURE

he pokes his head
out
between
cracked morning curtains

dust in his whiskers

he jumps over to the bed
with a sound
like a kids squeaky toy makes
when
you
press
its
belly

he flops sideways
on the sun warmed quilt
all
his
fur
is
dusty in the sunlight

cat i say
youre SO dusty
and
old