CHINESE JADE

& with a cigarette holder
made of chipped chinese jade . . .

its morning again
&
the
grey dawn is birdless
over the typers
flat & empty beg

RUNNING ON FUMES

  when your mind 

       is

   terrifyingly

  e  m  p  t  y




. . . natch . . .


~

zip & vim gone
or never to wake

running on fumes

running on the residue 

           

           in 

           the 

           lobotomy pipe

DELIRIUM TAPAS VOL6

the empty lands
or so they very very seem

blunted tile
blind ceramic

the awful plumbing wires

the turf bark & meat

empty
empty 

lands


~


theres reflections to fill it
to paint time & change it

if we update & defrag 

between loving blinks

& the past
that cosy ghoul
is gone in truth

but for in our drawn puddle glow

NO CHOICE REDUX

hes gone

where ever they go

when they go

& the chair is was in
is empty now of course

see you all there

why not

why not

why not ?

from blog.sevenponds.com

STUFFING THE VOID

this poem
can be 
for / about / at / up

anything . . .

scripted weeping
top 5 stolen foods
best looking teens
the poor whales
rude cities
unclaimed jackpots
bird strike costs
bodies found in a belfast home
the poor poor whales

& thats just half 
of page 2 
in an old newspaper

i added whales twice
its my poem
& they deserve better

my point is
empty freedoms gutless balls
make a mess
like this is

change the filter out
lock shit down
f o c u s

back to 
kung fu
in a
phone box

my own
open g

from tresgatos.net

PICASA MADRIGALS, SHAMPOO / SPACE

AIRPORT HAIKU

SENTENCES ON PAPER ARE LIKE FENCES IN SNOW (FENCENCES)

  the  empty page
    is snow
    i made fall

 it hides everything 
     from before 
   away

      and 

 i  string difficult fences 
     tumbling fences
      full with holes
     and leaning uprights
              like 
 the fish shop line
  on pension day

         across  its
     waiting patience

from bricemiller.net

THE COLD BITCH OF BETWEEN TIMES

  park -
the inbetween time of late PM
  i
see
its tall grass
and
torn cricket crease
have
forgotten me / forgotten my memories

  park 
  is
indifferent in winter dusk
empty / insolent with space

  i
was
always
a
friend 
in the dog-walking kite-flying days
and
in the beer-popping ludicrous midnights

and
the
port 
lights the river mist
into
a future glow
like
a
sci-fi disaster
low
over
the
the broken fingers of trees

  i
stick
my
gum
on
a
traffic
post
to prove that i am here

from phys.org

CROUCH IN YOUR OWN BELLIES WHERE THE WEATHER IS REAL

  this 
  soap opera life
we
are
always 
trying
to 
solve
  is an artists impression
  of
  hasty 
  focus
  
an
  unfinished / unreal pastel scene 
of
pencil shadow
and
dense crosshatching that thins out
  into
  a
white page hinterland

  empty

 from realpointitaly.com

SAME AGAIN

  another tale
where 
i 
am 
all Bummed Out
  Flat Walled
  Emptied

  but again
my guts find the habit
in the carbon frame
and
  work a poem up from toy blocks to brain stem
and 
  blog it in the tangled brambles 
and
  later
  unpickle into sense
the 
  sentences of a stifled short story 
  thats
  boiling over on the back burner

  in
these
acts
  i Fill up
  become Flushed
  and Calmed 

  briefly and enough
  to breed a brood of hopes

from sueddie.wordpress.com