QUESTIONS IN THE MARGINS

could i 

find the world
this jagged & mad & mistaken & wild

if 

i 

was
an integrated

& functional 

meat & cog of it 

~

if
the
past
is a turd in the bin

then christ

am i some faecal weirdo

for cataloguing 

such refuse

in my field reports 

MOON WALLPAPER 3

we are  

cutlery monkeys

&

electric chimps

with

history chips

&

flipside chipsticks

on 

kevlar shoulders

&

worn canvas epaulettes

cheered & damned 

by

soft slugabeds

supine 

in clouds of vanilla mist

&

armchair generals

wild

in a chilli flake rain

all

empathy ducts clogged

&

sympathy holes healed

on

their food padded tv ribs 

 

CALL OF THE WILD

  its a strange world
    a hiccup life
 smeared and weird

   bricks and upvc and cars 
  block paving round the fruit trees
      where we tried
  to improve the ground

 and too  of course  the endless plastic rain

  step back  take a time out  
     and

      come

     on

     d
     o
     w
     n

  see   we are  beasts on the carpet
   phones now  where our claws were

    see  we are  animals with tiles
 insulated from the call of the wild
         
       we  still hear it . . .

 its an itch 
   we talk about 
    in the  
 therapy room

  the steel edge  in our laughter
   after dusk   when murder
      is
       for
      the good of the brood
      
     or
      only
     the
  dinner bell

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