HYPNAGOG MUSICS 1 & 2

1

the glass people
in the telephone hole
are timely saluting

an iridescent magpie
in the maudlin mist
of hospital hill


2

the tactile ache
of times balustrade
hurts like whimsy

well
beauty is an augmented riot
&

age a manicured dish rag

GARDENSONG

i was not sure
if it was either 

a magpies or jackdaws
but the black feather 

i found on sunday

& picked right up

& tucked neatly into 

my wide brimmed hat

because of any minute
reality / might / can / will

kick in the door
& pick me up

easy as mashed potatoes
or ham on rye

GARDEN OBSERVATION

thug magpies bullies
build
a
nest
in the new blossom
of the apple tree

wild garlic stinks and sprouts
up
out
the
unmown jungle lawn

its one of the better things i do

to
quietly

o b s e r v e

and
let
it all be