DULL ELECTRIC IN THE MORNING STREAK

theres doubt
dull electric
in the morning streak
of pencil lead cloud

i draw storms with it

in the comfy chair afternoon

thunderheads out the dog whistles

blown in dark opportunity

on the corruption stage

theres relief
approaching peace
in the pastel smear
of industry dusk

a bittersweet goodbye

projected on the painted sky

or pollution blood

& redacted black

phoning the headlines in

FAR FROM CALIFORNIA

i walked across
the college field
my hopes inside a matchbox

army rucksack / army boots
itchy feet & hot to trot
far from california

~

diffused sun

pollution sparkled
like surf on a movie beach

i am off to raise my cup again
to the feathers in the wind
far from california

~

misty longing
& elegy
plays down the walkmans wire

& took me
with drums & things
off to california

ALL OVER AGAIN

the dawn cracks the nights dark glass
and
we
have
to
do
it
all over again

cover ourselves in cotton
animal hide on our feet
press space 
tap enter 
interact with plastic 
summon data trapped in light
discuss in depth the weather

we daydream if we can
in the blue light under sodium tubes
of quiet cobweb woods
of the oscillating sea
of colour brochure beaches
of supper 
silence
and the short death of bed 

and in the evening in a break from tv 
we choke a little too polite to complain
counting our weird and diminishing blessings
under
a
beautiful
pollution
sunset

from flickr by vw4ross

MORE GARDEN

  from 
  my
  lawn chair
  i watch
may blooms tumble-fall 
like 
theres a magnet
in
the
ground
   
  out here
  somethings are not a colour at all 
  like
  the
pollution stain 
of
horizon rain - an undercoat
smudged
down
like
with a thumb

 

from orneveien.org

CONCRETE FIRMAMENT

the
streets - a microcosm crater world 
of 
minibeasts 
puddles 
and 
children - its rusted lids
to
the maintenance underworld
all
say
MADE IN ENGLAND
of
Sheffield steel - heavy seals on the
patched
and 
spotted
cement 

thats the ground - its thin sister
is
a
bored grey water colour
or
a
pastel explosion - repeated in ancient strokes
by
the 
great piss-artists hand
saving
inspiration
for
industry
and calling it pollution

and
in
the distance
above
the
rolled up hills
the clouds sometimes pretend to rain
in
streaks
of smudged charcoal

thats the sky - and between
is 
our
concrete firmament
built
of
cooked squares and practical holes
and
framed
with
disciplined wood



 

 

from the gaurdian.com