BLUE HOUR, THREE MINI POPS

we have to dig deep
then dig some more

under the nose of dawn

& the stulm of the day

to endure indelible 

in the blue hours ennui

~

the detectives comb
the old asylum land

concrete edifice ratland now

& a bereft mothers clique 

holds council in the ruins

~

& a radiograb - 

minnie the moocher
playing high up in my skull

call & response 

three orange whips

& all

GUARD THE QUEEN, A MEMORY FRAG

his voice was batman deep

with a record player crackle

& he used to work 

at guarding the queen

but i was 

too young then

on the floor 

with a colouring book

in a world

of shoes & voices

to hold it 

against him

& too small to know

about the bullshit of bills 

LOVE OVERFLOWS IN ANIMAL EXPIRATION

dont need

to scratch 

too deep

for the black revelation to bleed

varnish tarnished

by the tick tock thunder

&

dark angst in the diesel cortina

photo - Coffee Van #2 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