DONT LIKE RETRONYMS

synchronising 

the 

dictionary streams 

with 

cyanide & listerine

helps keeps 

the 

useless retronyms away

RAW LIKE BACON

i
bathed
in
the triumph
of a cat

exfoliated with sand from the sky

& raw like bacon like headlines
i took to the sleeping bed

& failed there
with
mountain tension

missing the streams of leigh 

HOMEGROUND WIN

now i am rewatching 

the movies again

sizemore & sigourney

paxton / peggy / piper

a comfort splurge

& a guilted foy
is a homeground win

~

trawling for trivia
for
the
social smokescreens

jazz & flub & bluff 

& passing time

doing time

in the universal 

tingle

mind 

& stream

THREE HAIKU & A BIRD 5

BY A STREAM 1


tendrils - octopus ?

going mad on my own watch . . .

   set up
 by a stream






BY A STREAM 2


set up by a stream

    the past is anchored to here

  camp bed 

     & 

   woobie






BY A STREAM 3


    read Hunger again

one hundred packed lunches

    water reclining

photo Rocket Wren from the Dagenham Archive

GUEST POST, WHAT KIND OF MIRROR by Ron Heckert

What kind of mirror is this anyway?

And another day became another day.

I am writing this for posterity, to look back on in future times, better times hopefully, but worse isn’t wholly unlikely.

This space ship to Mars just keeps on travelling. 

There is an end to this journey, eventually, but whatever. 

On this day here I was/am/be, bored and uneasy, in my little spacetime travelling pod.

I drink a hard seltzer or two. 

I smoke a bit of pot.

I find myself at this daily; a drink, or two, or three; a hit, or two, or four. 

I play video games in VR. 

I play guitar. 

I talk to my co-inhabitants. 

I rotate, from station to station every half hour or so.

I look at awful facebook videos of awful people being awful.

What kind of a mirror is this, anyway?

I walk in circles.

I talk in half thoughts.

I smoke cigarettes and I KNOW it’s gross and may give me cancer.

I think boring thoughts in a stream.

I pause to pee in a stream.

The stream is not a brook, but it babbles as much as my prostate will allow.

My mind babbles too, constantly.

What kind of mirror is this, anyway?

It’s all I got.

This fool was alive, once.

from media.vam.ac.uk