AN ACCIDENTAL BOLUS

if language

IS a virus

than whats this then -

a sneeze ? 

blood letting ?

some accidental bolus ?

~

i wonder this

in the quiet
of three below
& the silver white sheen 

of the flat winter glare

POLO MINT HOLE

in the gloam of undelivered winter

i pin mad hope
on the accruing spring lands

it is impossible pressure
i know
for only a season to shoulder

but the emptied airs all dead

& in need of natures basting

& the hope is in the hope of it

like a polo mint hole

if the hope is anywhere

WASNT EVEN A BIG FAN

i used to have 

this mongrel stereo set-up 

un-recreatable 

because i dont know what id done

two amps linked
thru the tape monitor
or by headphone jack
i dont know . . . 

five speakers
bi-wired or daisy chained
or both
i dont know . . .

& a tired turntable
with a brass imp 

blu-tacked
to the jumping arm

but it made the intro to 

Money For Nothing
sound A M A Z I N G
in the winter dawns

of way back when

we would play it

& play it again

& tweak up the volume

& sit in wonder
with the last of the happy dust

FINDING WINTER THERE

these annual
pitstops
come round
like we
fell asleep
in the
afternoon
sunroom
& woke up
finding
dark thats there
like a wall is there
&
then winter too

SOFT FIST SCHEDULE

& winters
iron back
is broken
by
the
soft fist schedule
of
springs bulbs & buds

~

a double daffodil
much more yellow
than its ivory fellows
is alone in facing
to the east

MEAT DOWNLOAD

 

jagged & drunk

we had fondue
on the balcony

& watched 

a hundred trains 

roll into waterloo

in an autumn 

that was winter 

too soon

~

& later 

stretched out 

on the living room rug

i watched 

upside-down 

out of the window

at the  h - y - p - h - e - n  flow
of planes 

into heathrow

counting my hangover 

  d

  o

  w

  n

MY ANTHROPOLOGY HAT

in the ITU 

drug room

the dead eyed 

nepotism porter

regurgitated

advertising copy 

at 

me

thinking 

it 

was
conversation

~

i survived

by wearing

my anthropology hat

winter dawn 

a joyless

arthritic 

dimmer switch twist

smudging up the privacy glass

would that i had the 

energy & compassion

to point out the

daytime moon to him

CHOIR OF HORSES

the radiator is singing

when the waters pumping

this blue wintertime

the horses in the water pipes

stilled their hooves for now

&

have formed an equine choir

that is entirely welcome

from equinebehavourist.co.uk

SUPERMARKET CAFE OBS

supermarket cafe
  &
i am kinda hiding 
  &
i am kinda disguised
  &
i take my place at the window

  & 
the museum feeling creeps in
like dusk creeps in
  in 
  winters 
  turgid 
  pm
  fail

  & summers under-rug dust is free
to cataract the daytime tv


~


they follow their kipple carts
out down the hatchback rows

trapped in fashion
    &
the madness of ads

new bucket

old water

happy new year

bogofs

keeping

revolution

at bay

& like i said before
i am so full with memories
i am bursting like a child

from telegraph.com.uk

GREMLINS IN 1

i look at the trees

stripped sans shame

& yes i think
  
  or 
  no . . .

  are we fallen leaves too ?

~

my
metaphor radar
got the 
short day
winter
gremlins in

clarity waits
outside the back porch

for
spring
to
please
come
soon

from youtube.com

HEADLINE HASH MASH 2

we are atlantis predicted
bad rug blimps in charge

bulls vs china
jesus in another tortilla

gas down
botox frown
mbe lion tranqed 
in the backseat winter

lungs on fire
hearts of wire
9000 calorie
killer platter

from news.immitate.com

SANTA, JESUS & OTHER ANGELS

HOLIDAYS ARE COMING

beach body horror !

count now
our natural wrinklets

so what tho
so what

should we pack a scalpel ?

isnt life in the eyes
&
the free child inside . . .

~

& anyway
too soon 
coca cola truck
will 
come on the flat tube

like from heaven

beach memories
dialled down
to
a
rare winter zero

~

santas a pimp 
indulgent overweight
taking back the night

his
indentured beasts of burden
thoroughly trespass
on
your
eaves
shingle

&
jesus is jesus
pinned to a lolly stick
persecution thin



DEAD THIN

mouse-nibbling
between weigh-ins

aspirational angels
flash cadaver chic

sell smells
in faux art
movie shorts

sell 
impossible
dr dangerous 
slim 
thin
tomorrow



OTHER ANGELS

angels now
rot inside
from gin

avoided on the uptown stoop

that was something 
i read one summer

car-flat carrion
on
the buy-it-now streets

&
its
stayed
with
me

always only
three thoughts
away

from roofcalc.org

AUTUMN SAYS EXCUSE ME

when winter
gets 
out 
her family album

autumn coughs
points to the door
nods once
and takes his leave

~

the
celebrations
scheduled
thru
the
years
nadir

are
waypoints to basecamp

~

then a long climb

to summers polaroid wash

softened
by
springs nature watch

its 
slo mo blooming a sudden

flower and life parade

from netherlands-tourism.com

INCOMPLETE SEASONAL FONT SUGGESTIONS

COUNTING THE MOON

scene-
long shadows
in a 
winter alley

daytime
licks
at
the
bins

there-
the ghost of Was
meets 
the spectre of Could

scene-
discarded toys
sunfucked plastic

tire ruts
knots of weed

there-
they file cliches
in 
the
ruins of a childs fort

scene-
night now

weak stars
rip torn cloud

there-
filing finished
they
count
the
moon

pic from theverge.com

TIME SLIDES

out
the
front
window
suburbia burps
on schedule

and
past the marks
the cat makes
with his interested nose
the
regular joes
and
ordinary janes
start their engines
and
dive
into
that cement river
to everywhere

~

and up there
the winter sun
is a heart in free fall
doing half a job
dizzy with worry
autumn betrayal
and arctic gasps

~

the winter sun

it
only
just

j u s t

touches
the bungalow ridge tiles
over the road
at
noon

in a golden smear
like night out
next morning
lipstick

and if i think i hear it sigh
its probably the water pipes

~

time slides
it just does

i go to piss
and
its
dark when i come out

like i blink you know ?
and then its black dark

time slides
it just does

~

and theyre all driving back from work now
1000 things done and behind

mooring the hatchbacks
on their concrete berths

and
i
pull
the
curtains
on
the
day

twist the blinds flat
and 
put the lamp lights on

cos time slides
it just does

downwards
and then up
into itself again

uncontrollable
and smug about it

from omegavintagewatches.co.uk

NEW YORK MEMORY

hotel steps
midtown

wired

sat on carpet wet from snow

it
soaks
into
my
jeans

and tho i took something to help
its just a memory in my liver now

~

meat 
packing 
district

the playground of kuklinski

and yes
planting a garden
on disused el tracks
is a wonderful idea
but its winter
and its not finished

and
all
there is here for me 
is my hangover

a
sense
of
stressed 
suspension  

and a tease of snow

~

diner
corner table
union square

sport on 100
tv screens

and
i 
sweat and gag and drool
with toxicity and nerves
over
my
grilled cheese
and
gins

i dont want to be anywhere
anywhere at all

but am impatience
to get started

~

its
the airport you see

and the sky
calling for me

flight - 
that thin science
in nowhere time

it
calls
for
me
by name 
and gate

and sucks all and any 
fermented joy
from
the
last 
winter-spring
new york 
day

from amny.com

POEM IN A POEM

i read
always have

like a good little spod

secret torches at night
as a kid

bad eyes

allowed the lamp on now
as i am 44 

(43..? 45..? 8..?)

only when the white noise lets me
of course

i hide and dream and live and steal
in
books 

theyre the simplest magic

a surrender of the soul

and
when i pause and look up
its
with
surprise
that the room is exactly the same

tho somethings changed...
its me that changed

changed by books
the simplest magic

a surrender of the soul

in one of these pauses
when i was 
undrugged serene
all magical like

i wrote down -

dr 
says
my metabolism
is
in
hibernation
from
the
autumn beginnings
of
a
culture winter

and i wonder now what i meant

cos it doesnt sound good

and
what on earth
i been reading
that
simple magic day

surrendering my soul

photo by joel robison from brainpickings.org