SWIMMING POOL & OTHER FRAGPOPS

now i remember
the promise & glow
of the vending machine

in the foyer
of the swimming pool
on an autumn night

~

we are gestalt meat tubes

wrecking our kins carbon

with the bold fonts 

of hysterical doctrine 

~

life is

the search for

the perfect trouser 

(a pair with a silver lining)

& optimum towel proximity

THREE HAIKU POPTARTS

1/3  NEIGHBOURHOOD WATCHING


hes front yard gassing

his brand new white slacks too big

humid english sun




2/3  CALLING THE DOCTOR


fourteenth in phone queue

get cut off at number one

god awful muzak




3/3  A CAN I CANT


cant write / then can write

fickle sick head like weather

did you kick my chi ?

UNHAPPY WITH TROUSERS, AN OFF-CUT POEM

 

& all the children

their innocence hurts you 

                reminds you 

of when you were car badge height
     unhappy with trousers

     &
     they dont know 

     they just dont know

STATUS

yeah
ok
sometimes im a solid mass

all real & proper & that

with trousers on
a shirt

& so forth & etc

with sometimes even a place to go

but 

other 

times
im hands reaching out
from some dirt-cloud smog

my face like a strangers surprise

MANMAN - COMMENT ON THE GLUT

from denofgeek.com

what if
&
what good

are -

a spiderman
on the sandy sahara 

a batman 
in icelands eternal noon 

iron man
without attention

a hulk gone zen
stretchy purple strides
up on ebay

captain america
out-of-time ptsd
separation anxieties
& suicidal urges

~

the invisible man 
would have an
invisible optic nerve

hed be blind -

hed get lost & die
we would never know

~

cia vivisection

would
be
their
reality

queue here for tickets kids

~

i got night hearing

i can leap the cat
with a single bound

look upon me amoeba
in awe

i am a manman
glass magic in my hand hands

lazy lazy 
destroyers of the world 

from listal.com

KID WISDOM

browsing books
stacked between stairs
i mind-touch them
i instinct-weigh them

by spines
and colours
and names
and font

when a ten year old 
says to me
        YOU WRITE POETRY DONT YOU ?
i nod / say
        BUT I DONT READ IT MUCH
he says
        YOU SHOULD THO SHOULDNT YOU ?

so today i take 
a doorstep 
of Harold Norse
to the white room
with my failing guts

when i come out
i have left 
my trousers behind
and i write 6 poems
of which this is one 

 from acousticlevitation.org

TROUSER METAPHOR POP

i have found the trousers
of
my
sickness
and
they
walk me unemployed
among
the
accidental
art
of
councils

 

 from phillipwolmuth.photoshelter.com