A WORKMAN MORNING

the moment

i spend 

with 

the
four
mismatched
mugs

on a patterned plastic tray

for the early bird workmen

who park up their machines
& laugh at the heaving clouds

is some kind of something

is a place of grace & space

& the winter mild 

coming in 

the open kitchen door

is

like

a

lullaby

for a cartoon bear

& the only darkness

is the december sky

& no ones fault 

no ones fault at all

MICE OF OURSELVES

'You sound like youre from nowhere.'

David Goodis, The Burglar



we have made 

mice of ourselves

afraid of 

the machines above

no mind

the cannibal holocaust

behind the pastel dream
of the faded ads

on end terrace

masonry gables

sky pie for supper
in the babel shade

 

PICASA MADRIGALS, OTHER IMMORTALS & MACHINES

1.

spin of the sprinkler

has

mesmerising majesty

i list

other immortals

in

my

phones

note

app

2.

people

over machines

cos

im a person too

remember

mice rule the garage

after spider abdication