It’s quarter to three
Green witch meantime
Just me and a near
Distant petrol lawnmower
A big lazy sun imputes
Soon golden autumn
Which draws to the end
this sad episode
So it’s one for my Baby
And one more for the Toad
Moses, Moses, holy Moses!
A turn up for the books.
Four quick glances
an element of surprise.
An intriguing risk demonised.
I think of you all the time, she said.
Puking in her handbag.
That’s some love poem
~
My eyes are clouded over with self-deceit,
these words are redolent of feet
that walked proud as punch,
no more for now,
no more,
the crunch
Post meridian
my little cupcake commits
genocidal actions:
hangs a false lord
by the neck till dead;
visits the haberdasher
after a light lunch
of eggy surprises
deep fat fried in
grand larceny
and hair lacquer;
kicks and sniggers
a begging wastrel
when no-one’s looking;
and indulges in
radical origami.
yesterday gives way
seven tambourines crackle
ecstasy elides
Donut talk juss eat
Said bulging face
Illuminating
My face with spit
Sure I butted him
Split the orange
Like two thumbs do
Gone grey clippers
Tea time approaches
Sound wind & horn
A perceivable absence
No shape, no form
An afternoon
Obedient.
A struggling writer: a writer struggling;
a beaten brow: a brow beaten.
Quandaries. Sundries. Tuesdays.
Sunday’s Just like Monday’s is…
let’s call it straight, Joey
(not that old crap again!)
you gave me a one way ticket to Pookaville!
Palokaville…
urghh, don’t interject, I was emoting.
Yea sure you was.
On the waterfront there ain’t no latrine duty.
Cryptic as McGillicuddy,
Manhattan wept, just like Jesus did.
…lead Speckled Hen, brain a grain, fleck a cur…
An iota insightful, just a jot, a dot:
a wimple blip, a new black spot got.
Ceramics dynamic, silica majolica,
cilia and sillier, glass beads rattle
porcelain cattle, free mantle peace,
Cape Codology,
crystal mistral Bristol…
Eluard was once
Grinkel;
Wayne once was
Morrison,
and Wayne
became
Jayne.
Wistful, windless, desultory:
frugal, fawn, beige, puce _
Elvis has left the building
Pulling a fast one again
~
Half-six on the dot:
doors slam, off to the coast,
Bodies glide on the high tide,
rolling away to chilling gyres
~
tussles and rubs
from jetsam and kelp,
nibbled by gulls
eschewed by sussed brill
~
Grimbeau 