DAWN TO FROG

now that moment

when dawn 

is about 

to breathe out

its soft promise

of warm earth

& easy time

well 

midmorning will mock it

& noon will flatten it

like a frog in the road

TWELVE O CLOCK HIGH

time wraps around noon

like a racecar drifting

& i lean into it
into the tip of time

stereo up

windows down

twelve o clock high

~

& the sunlight

round beechcombe

flashes on the wrecks

in the park

that dared once reach 

for a kingdom

& that podium champagne

ABOUT A BEACH MORNING

grey haze burns off
morning slow

toy boat tries for fun
in a sandy rivulet

& the air it feels 

... unready

~

dressed for noon

mind on lunch

i wait there for the sync

in the evacuation of it

grey haze lifting

morning slow

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

SANATORIUM OF THE MIND

 

what a beautiful day 
to draw the curtains on

& retire again at noon

into the sanatorium of the mind

sun on the pillows 

the pillows a fort 

the evenings falldown

still 1000 dreams away

BEHIND THE BRICK & CONSENSUS

noons the new midnight

dusks a ceasefire relief 

dawn games are welcome 

     

i play there

     

like canute did 

with the tide

~

our deal with the dark

        is always in play

i stretch out there 

        sweating bleach

waiting for the time out

            the short death

            the hallucinations

        

   behind the privilege bricks 

        

   

NIGHT SHIFT POP

i 
was
a
white night shadow 
burning stubby blunts 
under the weak starshine

writing pops with a work pen
in a borrowed well stolen pad

waiting for the milk train
almost running just for me 

~

empty seats
trainers up
bag-warm beer

early mist 
a fantasy-scape
over
fishing lake mirrors
&
the
green green green
estuary
jungle

~

my reflection
is like
by an
impressionist
&
i brace for it
brace for dawns 
brotherhood to fade

hoping sleep will take me
before
noon
in the crashbang of day

from greenhutgalleries.me

ANATOMY OF A WEEKDAY NAP

noon
or thereabouts

i stretch out
i whistle for the cat

he comes
belly wobbles
squeaks jumping up to the bed
lays down

lays down
like my 
little spoon

i bury my face
in the fur
of his tiny shoulders

he smells animal clean
he smells like home

he purrs 
he ramps it up to a kind of double purr
like he might burst

then he quiets
a nostril whistles

his head sinks
an asthmatic snore
an adorable sideways wriggle

and i drift then too
him in my arms

both of us 
trembling
with dreams

pic by mango-tango monkey-pajamas

BEFORE DAWN AND AFTER DUSK

its
good
before dawn

pills
coffee

vapour fills the room

and
music
and 
music
and

w r i t i n g

even if its only this
even if its never read

~

and
long
before
noon
i
fall
down

down
the
bricked up fenestration
of the longest day

hours last like 
chinese dynasties

down
into
the
plastic jesus
of
my
groinal chi

~

till after dusk
we batten the hatches down
we build a barricade of order
and
we
all
nest
together
like footnotes

and summon unconsciousness

please

the emotionmachine.com

DAYLIGHT SAVING

when 
the
clocks change

dark comes earlier 
to the 
high street
and

the
5 pm
people
cash up
and 
scuttle home
luminous
grey dusk 
on
their
heels

'its
still noon
when the sun is at its highest'
i
say
to
anyone

twice
a
year

 

WRITE A POEM HE SAID

write a poem he said

wot now ? i said

yes now he said with words from this instant ether

ok i said and wrote 

coffee ring table
holds
cheap electric eye
and
a
black
board of burst words
and
my
struggle hands
hungry for rest but hungry for something else too
light with exhaustion
empty
like
balloons
they
tap
out
surroundings/room buzz/cold feet
and
the still-world painting on the window glass
thats
split
sometimes
with children and a cat and the blur of vans
and
the silence in here
is
desperate for a song
and 
everything 
will
wait

ok he said you did it

i did i said but it needs work

it does he said but thats ok

throw up into the typer at at dawn ? i said

and clean up at noon . . .

the classic typewriter page