ON WONDERING WHERE THE GOALPOSTS EVEN ARE

it is 

hard to
carry on
with this writing game
when i could fall face down 

all over the floor instead

& cling to the edges of the rug
swamped by the useless raving

of all the trying things

& the iron & blue & dusty jewel

that is our constant moon 

is gradually backing away

& i cant blame them

~

& on the tightrope

over the panic net 

i am trying not to happen at all

& trying to be like bracken or moss

like deadfall or a railway sleeper

but i do get up again

for my meatsock needs

 

& i see a bird in the garden
all the colours of oil

& i get on with it again

with writing this down

FRAG 25

i like the sound
of those first drops
when we all look up
to confirm the source

it will puddle on the water butt
& feed the moss there
& nourish the seeds sprouting
inside the bird feeders clog

TV NOIR-KUS x 2

1.


forest torches paint 

a monochrome underworld

moss on roots / wet rocks




2.

no phone signal / duh

in the forests bone cave damp

gone thumb root aches

POEM FOR MY PARENTS-IN-LAW

i wish i had not been broken
so i would have been able to know you both better

i wish i had not been so sick
as to see your home & city only that one time


~


thank you for the cameras & the peppers
thank you for the xanax & the breaded chicken
thank you for your daughter
i am sorry if i kept her away


~


i hope one day in the next world
we will bait our hooks with new wishes
& fish together by a still blue lake

i hope one day in the next world
we can camp together in the forests there
& sleep painlessly under strange new stars

i hope one day in the next world
we can watch all our animals play together
in a sunshine clearing on soft green moss


~


i hope one day i will meet you again
in the place it is youve gone

the place it is where we all go

when we go

why not why not why not

note - picture is of this poem written into an origami boat 

launched 20/05/2022 into the Danube

with the ashes of Istvan & Katalin Margitai

RERUNS & WRITTEN RESIDUE

always 
i am
explaining
myself

fictitiously
like practice

to gone friends from out the past
&
to next months never / maybe meets


~


if only my mind could RACE
id be done by now

but 
its 
some kind of swamp in there
some kind of slo-mo mordor

all spiked retinoids
&
between-station underwater tv 


~


i must clarify again
those corner hook-ups
the cracked cement & moss banks

&
i
got
to
dwell on

the shouted almost chat
from the dub weekenders

i am rerun central
meat tube hdd only


~


i feel 
it is ALL 
still happening to me

linear time
is 
only outside
my
untanned leather


~


so 
i
go read new poetry

go on the old toilet

trying
to dump
the ALL out

& fill up the space
with 
someone elses 
written residue

for a change
& to breath

from eobdtool.co.uk

BETWEEN SLEEP & SIMULATED REALITY 2

& 
the wrench out
from 
such forest moss

to 
  an
    indoors
    at
    first

 u n r e c o g n i s a b l e

becomes
where
coffee 
is
headlining
this
carnival show


~


well the room is there
like a flat tire is there
like death is there
in
a
twelve minute
drive thru
crematorium

thin smoke  
forgetting itself
in the grey blue sky

from en.wikipedia.org

CATS SOFT COAT

tumeric
ground three days ago

distant peat

moss dried
after summer rain

a cleaned and living warmth

residue of perfume
        of handcream

trapped garden air

unavoidable hint of practical litter
and
somehow tar

home definitely home
and
a musk of long slow slumber

how to describe his smell
nose deep
in the cats soft coat ?

( maybe even 
  electricity
  subdued
  by his 
  power station 
  heartbeat )