ANGORA YANG

its
hard enough
to
realise the right word

to 

compel a humdrum thought

to 

tumble free

out of the bed

&

wash its face for the day

& here i am 

attempting poems

~

i am jealous

of the cat again

three crossed paws

& his chin on them

humble bragging his dignity

in a curl of angora yang 

A MORNING POP

i was there

now i am here

& i think a thought

simple as meat

& strange as stars

& so it goes

todays fog

& yesterdays clothes

hearing feelings
out the radio

CARB JONES

now i am in a supermarket
&
the
fluorescent tubes
strung up on high wires
are
bleaching
my
thoughts
&
ideas

now i am
rendered blank / confused

back brain a carb jones

in the rainbow fusillade
of the product aisles

ON THE ROAD TO HOSPITAL

the red & amber lights
on the hospital lane
where
copper council brick
meets
death row bronze

blend & mate

their burnt palette 
like a painting
like a thought

not captured or frozen

only slowed

THE T SHIRT CHRONICLES VOL 4

his t shirt said 

'The Settings Stay On Default 

 So Nothings Ever My Fault'

& theres a comfort there

& a freedom

in the thought 

of the 

unchanging touch

of the 

unfussed user

~

i love to see

an analogue calendar

chickens / ponies / cliche seasons

tacked up

by the fridge

in the clutter

of a pet food

galley kitchen

MUSIC POPS

1.

old 
record
spins spins spins
on
the 
player

i watch it
with a cup of tea

and a smile

needle goes up and down
in
the
round landscape of cliffs

a 
calming 
meditation 
in 
movement


2.

the 
45
is
a
wax photo of motor city hearts 
      
a 
blueprint blacktop
of
tar and gravel

an 
inevitable powerful chug
like 
a 
killer laying waiting
or
a
coup in the night rain

that
rings 
true
bells
with 
my 
dna
my
heartpump
and 
my A13 diversions 

from www.45cat.com