Touched
by a film
of frost,
the chill
Cascades
Waspishly
from the fanlight
Squirts
Little nips
of morning,
Bikini weather.
Motorway
neuronal
city women
fret more
about how
they look
than fish do.
Pastel shy-blue,
sky-blue
Sky
evicts
beige clouds
Twenty eight thousand
Miles out there,
just now
A space boulder
passed
over my
Shoulder.
Cheroot in hand up
to the bidet-bog.
Down to
Lamplight:
candle lit,
curtained cave.
The news, the morning news:
Hong Kong Occupy (day six);
first Ebola in the states;
15yr old girl off
To wed a warrior.
Sit and listen,
listen and sit,
sat idly
scribbling
morning drivel.
Back to bed or not? Not.
Wrote a sketch about
The flasher in the night,
Working title: Up the Boreen.
The work, the work!
Exhausting thoughts.
I’m tired. Day is dawning. Pull the curtains open.
…A girl has been found in a London river…
She didn’t make it.