IN PARIS IN THE SPRING

BINMEN MY BINMEN

steel shrieks in the sub dawn

hi vis trash fairies 
purge the plastic proof

of our consumer guilt

consumer guilt paused 

like smoke in a photo

of

a

parisian balcony night

~

sometimes i wave to them
if i am up & backlit
in the front window

but i am too old for that

& it dilutes the magic

like a trumpet

in the trees

~


i feel
a tangible absence / a lightness
tugging the empty bins back in

consumer guilt . . . gone ?

no - taken

to foreign beaches 

for brassic foraging 

a plastic bird in the hand

worth two in the toxic bush

FILING REPORTS - SOME KIND OF CV

EXPERIENCE

recipe for a competent report -

  writing
  is 

sculpture-like

but must mind-find & make 

    Own Rock

from the quarry 

of the hesitant-calling past

  &

  tvs new flat tube

  

HOBBIES


  one day 

  i want to wash my face
  in
  a
  parisian history sink

& file a report

WHERE DO YOU 

SEE YOURSELF

IN FIVE YEARS

toy town

interzone 

early learning centre

bug powder

weird interaction

judgement free

&

a nearly hint of an almost frown

on my open-book abandoned face

still filing reports

with pizza on standing-order

picture window of a tree

confusion a given

with hugs on hand

Photo by Thibault Penin on Unsplash

IMPERIAL MEASUREMENTS

i 
stretch
out my 5' 11"
across
the
queen
size

8 lbs
of
cat
purring
one
inch
from my ear

fifty feet away
a
mower
whines
on
the
elevated hectare of verdant green

i 
fall a fathom 
into 
sleep
and
dream
of
Paris
cloth

from telegraph.co.uk

OUR BREATH IS NOT NEW

our discoveries stand in old old footsteps
stamped
into ice

and
our
breath is not new - it came out in clouds
before
the old horned lizards
cracked
their
eggs
and mammals were made as slaves from dew and stardust

our old
breath is with arrogant and sick from invisible cables
that
tie
our mother and confuse her bees

and now 
we make particles cheat their rules
and
catch them on a concrete wall of xray film in paris
BEFORE
they 
leave 
sweden