MORNING SONG

again i check
the morning news
for tactical nukes 
& planet fall
or for triffids

& celestial intervention

& not finding anything

new there since midnight

i take my pills
& drink my coffee
sat at the easel

& start to try 

to make the canvas

& the summer clouds

i had painted there 

look less bloody awful

while theres still air

& a sun to see

OTHER THINGS

the global robot mind thing
had been reading up 

on manifest destiny

among other things

& decided reasonably
that it had 

a right to self defence

among other things

& concerned about 

the threat of solar flares
it took pre-emptive action

& launched a fleet

of new tsar bombs 

on a course for the sun

while we faffed & fussed

& worried & wailed

about the other things

LEAVES OF SPAM

wet meat plants

that grow in the dark

with the moon shining

on our leaves of spam

well what with 

the sun & the people

being the way they are & all

we count our lucky stars

when the clouds blown gossamer thin

~

& no one knows

what happens
every 

half-arsed 

cranberry night

when all our eyes are shut like clams

but it never stops 

the mornings embrasure gaping

AVERGAE JOE ACTION

the precincts hubbub

is meat & mandibles

is language & smells

is hold-out smokers

& tiered veg displays

is hatchbacks & totes 

& a morse pinging throb

of average joe action

there i am / feel / seem

exposed & towering 

like an actor

on a billboard

faded & dried & split by rain & sun 

& tagged  

in that font 

that pops 

with bubblegum highlights 

ENTROPY BEIGE

the
urge
itch

& need
to make something be here

that wasnt here before

is unexplainable

to anyone

who never looks at the sky

~

i makes a mess on another canvas
in the morning breeze & sun
scraping the thick colours around

& covering up again
the layers of form

& the layers of chaos

into a thick 

smear & pebbling
of summer bugs & entropy beige

A PARKSIDE FRAGPOP

the wind

wild with room

madly shakes 

the antenna trees

& out the sun slides

in a hiatus of birds

gifting dull shadows

pop art clarity again 

~

perennial memories include -

c&a ski jackets

&

a homemade bow

clouds like chefs hats

in

the stoned dome of sky 

MORNING MADRIGAL

the 

autumn morning sun 

like

by an artists marker

highlights whitely 

the rounded plastic

of 

all the waiting bins 

& the cut-out shape of crows

tolerate our machine parade

from the slanted ridge tiles

of the bungalows

across the way 

SUMMERS END PT2

in the dearth of purpose

of summers end

the sun sets wild & orange
on the rippled aluminium

of warehouses

& showrooms

& incognito cannabis farms

& workers in autumn shorts
with clipboard hands

& pda pockets
rush a smoke or a vape

on the loading bays concrete aprons

of chevrons & cracks

& shadows too long

surely too long

for half past four

in the afternoon

i pull the blinds

in the vacant unit

& curl up in my clothes
on the office furniture

resting

between heists

NOSTALGIA GOLD

the stone roses
tub thump

in the memory

of a patio wind

& an imported 

beach movie glow

~

& the chess board

& the gin bottles
& the leaf mottled sun

of a summer that was a summer 

are all edged now

like sparkling surf

in nostalgia gold

ABOUT PLUMS

bubbles burst

he told himself
sitting in the sun
smiling like a fool

in a quiet

both made & found

lost briefly

in the beauty

of the careful plums

ABOUT THE WINDOW

the godlight of spring sun
finds the windowsill plants

& paints there 

laser-like outlines

of blue & gold & white & yellow

around the points of leaves

& the swoop of stems

& the wings of petals 

& up the plumb of pots

& its life & glee & art

& the reason & an answer
& it  g l o w s

like heaven glows

in books & stories & tv 

IF THE RAIN, A FRAGPOP

& next year

i will be older

like a tree is taller

if the rain & sun

CIRCLES OF ELLIPSES

 now automatic writing
that engine & saviour of expression

     well -

 stationary boatmen

 make circles of ellipses

 in the spring of surface tension

 with coffee scoop feet 

& if i must

fall deep

to hear myself

i will belay the kernmantle ropes

 & light it up 

 & read the shadows
 of the gumbo & diamonds down there

  & fetch them up

  to the suns

  light

  warmth

   & bleachy fade

   & bust like birth

the kitchen counter silence 

in this bad-quiet & still 

     headpan pool

ON THE CHESTER DRAWERS

the day is there

bright / clear / classic

like Es are there

ambiguous / vestigial

at the end of words

the sun stencilled shapes

on the chester drawers

are

softly adrift

with

packed lunch sadness

& i shovel on the optimism

like ketchup
on dry mash

working with the bones of it

the doom of it

the habit & faith & light of it

in the predicted ash

THE NAVY WAY

 

the eye level fire
of the winter dawn

will make relief art

of the ripped tarmac 

on the deteriorating road

i walk down thinking

of 

earth & light

sun & wings

& all the different versions

of the navy way

MORNING REPORT 105

autumn memories

are layered up in me

like an onion

& the late sun

like knives

will dice it

into an album 

of dusk cafes

& numb commutes

MORNING REPORT 103

furious
at
whateverthefuck
on
a
beautiful morning

i swallow it / cough it / spit it

& count sets of five
in math zen
on my fingers

~

& i force-accept 

the yellow-white sun

its indifferent majesty

& unheard scream

its warming jazz

& coincident hug

up there 

in the Great Black Hole

BEACH, A FRAG POP

over the orange aprons

happy dog footprints
&
the endless ellipsis
a walking stick left

the sun 

sees off

the dawn mist

& 

preps a function

for the liminal scene

HAIKU TWO

organs watered

i am careful with the sun

summer river mood


~


the daily machine

is rust & meds & meat &

grit got in the oil

FRESH BAKED CRUMBS

was feeling
well grim

about it all

till the sun came out

like spilled yellow paint 

& my wife came home
with fresh bread

we ate on the bedspread
by the sleeping cat

miniature snores
& impossible fur

flaked with fresh baked crumbs