DIGRESSES WITH REMINISCES

the orator
drops his paper
reading some prayer about shepherds

& he digresses
with reminisces
about his own sheep farming days

there is no conviction
in his blunt diction
when he says

sheep are stupid
they turn their toes up
at any old thing

at the funeral
we were at
last thursday noon

PROP SATCHEL CLEARLY EMPTY

he wears four maybe five layers
& maybe a cap 

maybe a loose scarf

she wears one layer
& if a cardigan 

then its made of nothing

in the hollywood film tvs

where the funerals

are always autumntime

the rusty leaves blown 

under perennial trees

PART TWO OF A FUNERAL TRILOGY

DEFAULT SETTINGS

sarcasm back then

in
the
side alleys of bikes and plywood

was
my 
vocation
trade
lifeboat
default setting
base root foundation

and it had no home
in 
the
constipated dining room air

proper shoes silent
on the hoovered carpet

before

funeral



UNCOMFORTABLE ACTORS

the vibe
could not
be weighed

it 
was 
like
a half-dozen half-written plays
mashed
together
by
the
sideboard

at once saturday afternoon
and monday morning

and
the
actors
pulled
from
comfort

to improvise cautiously

like
god
was
actually
watching




LONG BLACK CARS

tension at once
ebbed and grew

when
the
long
black
cars 
came

but
movement
always
helps
things

and journeys are cocoon

pic from commons.wikipedia.org

GOODBYE SUMMER

like an old woman 
with 
a thick mask of make-up
the 
indian summer smelt rotten
and
turned overnight
into garish reds
and 
damp decay

the night rain blows sideways
under street light halos
like
a cigar butt thrown 
from 
a 
wound down car window

something is over
like a movie is over
a dull disposable imprint
that
never
tries
to
say goodbye
ever

i turn up my trench coat collar
and
step out of the shelter of the cafe awning
as slow as tho i'm leading
a
funeral procession
of 
shiny slick 
black cars

from dpshots.com

STREETS AS POEMS

the hot summer of '06
was
full with
warm beer
cheap scotch
a
funeral
and
grief

but
i saw the streets as poems
columns of
simple
true
words
everywhere
i
looked

urban75 blog, brighton west pier

ENGLISH FUNERAL IS A STALE CHEESE BISCUIT

the crematorium is laid out on
thin
flat
land
busy as a mall car park

hard to tell what theyre peddling in there

smoke hangs over hatchbacks
heat
haze
hovers
above
the stacked brick like industry

black cluster-fuck in
black cluster-fuck out

the 
wake
is
better - everyone pops beer tins
and
looks
at
the photo albums laid open by the door
and 
smiles at the past

acremation.com