Category: writing

A Solitary Mistah

A dead unrequited tree has fallen bridelike on the sunrise.
in all likelihood the crazy sparrows will befriend it
bring it grubs and larvae to create utopia from its folds
since castration the buffalo spaniel gives a wide berth
to prone toxic temptations sullying his vista: language,
he inferred later, leaves no trustworthy fossils

The Woman in Red

Obscenities are music to dandelions
your foul mouthed garden 
is full to bursting
Unlike bores to endure at wakes
the first to arrive the last to leave
do you recall we were happy
unwhaling a mushroom quiche 
on a willow pattern platter and garnishing it
with corrugated parsley?
By this time it was whatever it is
nobody slept well and we woke refreshed
safe in the knowledge the weeds were cursed
some days now you just serenade the brambles
when the power tools have gone shopping
when the weather is bad you write sestinas 
psychokinensis is a dandy word


Merriweather & Manson Make Out

Dylan movie ambles down 
below jampacked with namedrops 
cameos and zen flavour wisecracks: 
up here in the crows nest 
full of psychic anthrax
and chintzy liquorice 
the ice floes pause for thought. 
Opening the landing window & 
admitting the savage boreus-- 
What the fuck were you playing at? 
You knew about the kerosene

Swimming to Abrasia

Sleepless till gone dawn, 
took pills at five, got a few hours, 
listened hard to Alexei, Mary, 
and the bird tapping on the landing window
then let out the dog and did tai chi with a vape
before the postman had good reason to walk past. 
Thought long and hard about water 
spilling over the bridge of sighs, 
and then thought of you saying 
'Fuck me a flying gondola, upside down inside handcuffs.' 
If things keep going this well
you might end up getting  discovered. 
Then what? Splash...

Poor Sweet Little Matty

repairing telephone booths is a thankless business these days
people walk past laughing pointing dark squares
just yesterday a trout exploded in front of the shop
wish i had caught that for posterity
one day i am going west
for rest and recuperation
a place without wires
a place with no connections to repair
the swim of hunchback trout

Frank Nuns

One stupid broad don't make a summer
to accomplish this onerous 
task you require:
a pride
a gaggle, 
a posse, 
a murmuration, 
a flock, 
a swarm,
a riot, 
a host, 
a crowd, 
a plague,
a herd, a school, a shoal
a parliament, a phallus...

Bounteous Pearl White Clout

Vast reserves of morpheus 
lean back satiated 
banked up by king size willows 
empty phials bob on the Lethe.
moonlight rakes the memory 
like sten guns on the  lilac Adriatic
this was never a town for joyriders on a spree
joined kindle unlimited for kicks, 
a read on a passing cloud
groupthink gets cricks it in the neck
have i spent bad money?
a little bit of testimony 
does a body good
illuminate thine selfhood


Daft as a thrush in song,
peppered by turtle dove shot, 
endangered specious snipers go to pot
seen nobody but your familiars 
since the shodding excursion. 
No discourse on the telling bone 
except to the pharmakon
one egg owed to the corner shop. 
Sir Noot ate all the crusty bread. 
Mettoys crude long vehicles 
jacknifing in your head
as i breathe i grows 
rich transporting ancient coins 
over the funicular isthmus 
on the tough bodies 
of the cattle of Bashan

A Post Card

Orifamme burst open dawn canopy back of horse chestnut plantation on the cusp of five-thirty.
opposite this old place, the beige house was dark red and outside here the border hedge  
a defiant pea green the like of which you have never seen before.
After tablet medication, you mulled over the holy thought and avian tweet of the day before 
all things bright and beautiful from the guest Rev Livermore's finest work
got sullied by the sleazy  apocalyptic six o'clock news
As you drank up your coffee you took in the morning congress of robin, pigeon , and sparrow on the
bread strewn table and it raised a smile. Then it was back to the pneumatic bed for daybreak dreams.
You woke to Wimmins Heure; hear small plastic bags are banned and amoral breast implanters from the 
continent havebeen brought to book and must cough up substantial damages.
it amuses you when a tory lady gets berated by fiery emma's cross questions suggest mealy-mouthedness. 
you are still constipated but well read up on derrida getting busted on his
trip to prague in the early seventies (the grounds for his mission to deconstruct the usa?)
as ever your words are not flowing freely; has your twitter inactive account been corrupted? 
I sincerely hope so.

Vigil for a Burning Dog

On the ruby doorstep before you stands a parcel for Professor Phipps, It contains a pouch of pulverised sage intended to keep your lonely onion amused over a plague infested Yule.

A thermo-nuclear fog envelops the sleepy town of Trollenberg as erotic zombies fill dishwashers incanting the curses of Mali and smiling on the memory of Nkrumah’s wizard foxtrot.

‘Maradonna’s dead’ They chant.

‘Good, but what of little Diego?’ Prompts the whip cracker.

‘Mudlarking, no doubt. Skipper. Prizing dentures from washed up concubines of the East Indian mob enshrouded in sepia drab.’

A sable crow observes all of this from a tendrilled groyne. The ocan is muted, unspectacular, vivid. Waters lap. A heat pipe chortles in darkest Abrasia.

‘Will he wash?’ Chant the wanton zombies

‘In good time, when the opportunity arises.’

An emphatic whip crackles.

‘The crusty stench is beyond the pale of the daily luminal’

‘Up here on Waum Wen we call it crud’


‘Poor wee Diego’

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