FRAGPOP No1.2

the pressure wave

the walking meat

lay on thick 

is only a cock

in your ear

~

the postman cometh

with glossy photographs

of cooked food

& 

all the numbers

for the approximation

of the above

& he feeds my slot with them

& the hospital letters too

SHRINKING BUFFER SHRANK ALL THE WAY

shrinking buffer

shrank all the way

& here it is

difficult difficult lemon difficult

its a square block

huge as a god
& too well machined
for my gömböc portal

~

the calendars look so homey

on the fridge doors

& workplace walls

dont they ?

but they chop you 

into meat cubes

stabbed with marker

the train kept rolling you see

while we laughed
the numbers away

MORNING WONDERING

  the 
postman is late

  hes out there
  in
  the
struggling hatchback streets
  
          where
  clots of kids
  eyes down on glass palms
  walk to school in black
    to 
    unlearn wonder

  i write small 
    blab-pops
    of
eurgh & unmurder
    of
whatever & meh

then run a bath

wondering how many of YOU
  regularly
    piss
      in
        yours

and of Time / the rolling-over Sun
and
how
we
locked
it
into a machine we wear
  and
  live our lives
  on 
  its 
  numb47s 

 

WESTMINSTER SILICONE

i recieted the relevant numbers
down 
the 
phone
to the tired stumbling voice
of 
a 
government drone 

my
Westminster file grows
in 
silicone 
and
in
ones and noughts
always
half 
a 
spring 
picture
short

Westminster Bridge by Moonlight by John Atkinson Grimshaw