CIRCLES OF ELLIPSES

 now automatic writing
that engine & saviour of expression

     well -

 stationary boatmen

 make circles of ellipses

 in the spring of surface tension

 with coffee scoop feet 

& if i must

fall deep

to hear myself

i will belay the kernmantle ropes

 & light it up 

 & read the shadows
 of the gumbo & diamonds down there

  & fetch them up

  to the suns

  light

  warmth

   & bleachy fade

   & bust like birth

the kitchen counter silence 

in this bad-quiet & still 

     headpan pool

WEDNESDAY WEDNESDAY

the workmen wear burnt orange hard hats

& black pirate beards

they force a hole into the patchwork street

with a mobile mechanised hydraulic drill

they put up red plastic fences

gone pink from the sun

they lay a nonslip yellow slab

bordered with bevelled black

over the space in the world

they are gone when i have my lunch sandwich

but back before my nap is properly underway

they returned with a proteous hot box 

its yellow streaked black with rust

they have wheelbarrows on the citroen flatbed 

& big thick rubber tubes coiled in columns

i hear them talk
i hear them phone
i see one gesturing in the truck cab

their engine ticks over over over

calm before afternoon bedlam