The
fragmented head surveys itself
quick clips of a factive dream.
The
perspective is from below.
It is indoors.
The
street scene is frugal,
the sky is blue.
The
feeling is anxious
A pressing engagement.
The
train is soporific,
uncomfortable
The
taxi rank is fresh, niggly,
and jumpy.
The
taxi journey is relief
detachment pause
The Antiques Roadshow
A shock ending.
Scrimmed Femur
The
ending is exhausted, querulous.
Sunlit indifference abounds
The house wakes,
must back below.
Sleep is far,
a distant realm:
dreams frolic there.
Curiosity killed the cat
they found it in the laundromat
Named it Yasser Arafat
And hung it on the wall
The next cat was not interested
In anything but being fed
And hiding fur balls in their bed
So they shot it in the head
And hung it on the wall
When we heard the first reports
Of pistol shots we went around
In dead of night without a sound
but everyone was underground
Or hung upon the wall.
Speedwell.
Headache,
Gerund,
a nap till PM, which is now – Holy Cow!
Another Independence Day ends
One man Bob.
On the mad ship dodgy gut
It’s a cheap trip to Doolali Tupp
You won’t get far on carrot
And a multigrain bar
Roll me a coffee,
pass me a tab,
and a biscuit too,
celebrate the comedy of yesterday,
Groucho, Panto, Kong and Fay Wray
“We have to remember that what we observe is not nature in itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.” – Werner Heisenberg
Sunshine after rain.
One will come soon.
So…Relax, wind down,
Never mind
it was just
The usual let you downs.
Then…Inflate, blow up,
Never mind
it was just
the usual pink suspects:
Six blind elephants from
The Flat Man .
Six is a number for elephants.
Elephants is not a number.
She was known to have the wrong name,
(a clerical faux pas committed by Gerald
While eating a falafel after a
Good bollocking from Mrs. Godzilla
for being late in again.)
The corpse lived at No Fixed Abode
as did Wallace Pidgeon
the woman with her real name,
who rented the cellar.
It was all too much for Geraldine,
So, she just rifled the personal effects
for good pickings,
secreted them in the shallow,
nylon pocket of her too tight tunic,
pulled the sheet over the head,
and checked for recent texts.
Lunchtime
News about the news:
Observe basking sharks,
lost lopsided lilies,
slumping in the lagoon
pump waters from people’s homes
busy Nessies, little lochs,
tiny monsters of the shallows.
Waterlogged logs sink from sight,
nervous wrecks shiver
in Lazy Bones’ Locker.
No way, Jose!
Smart Alec McMackerel.
Wessex is the wetland of Alba.
Let it drown.
Paint your bum blue.
Join us: Stay dry.
See Soggies flood North in droves.
Border turnpike takes groats only.
Frack Ben Nevis.
Rip off Groatland.
Yawn. Nodding off…
Done in after all the sleep and squatting…
bills, deeds, duties, musts,
cant’s, coulds, shoulds, woulds;
daydawdledoodles.
Doze snooze nap?
And why not?
Afternoon off again…Tut, tut, tut.
…clear new calm morning
blooms:
bright sky blue, golden glint,
pulsars thrill thawing
laurel leaf and stream.
Horse whispers,
sees red
bucks,
clears picket fence
scarpers
heels for dust
finds a new
stamping ground.
Seems sound:
Safe and sure
As houses
Go a good brisk clip
‘Are you the captain, the crewman,
the passenger, the vessel,
the ocean?’
Chance is Lord of All!
Metaphoric…
Metamorphic…
Metarapchik…
Metamonster!
Gorgeous Krakens
and other deep creatures
engulf us
disguised as waves.
Grimbeau 