…
a letter in the post
from the ghost
of tomorrow
ten chicken chicks
hatched
last epiphany
runner beans
sprinting up a
ribboned maypole
thermal vests
in the doldrum roll
of august
supper for breakfast
& a cocoa
– not a coffee
…
…
a letter in the post
from the ghost
of tomorrow
ten chicken chicks
hatched
last epiphany
runner beans
sprinting up a
ribboned maypole
thermal vests
in the doldrum roll
of august
supper for breakfast
& a cocoa
– not a coffee
…
…
wafting like a ghost
if there’s a draft indoors
– i am a cobweb
…
…
…
…
…
…
a boarded up shop
on a dead high street
of a breezless afternoon
sometimes the moon
can be seen in daylight
still up from last night
but not this x
on a sheet of graph paper
doldrum roll, please
where did all the traffic flow?
we stand statesque
under dozy duvets
of motionless blue
unstung by wasps
or mutant g.m hornets
no lightning struck
while the iron was lukewarm
or song was sung of
life as it unhappens
…
…
your tosspot narcosis
is not my odd osmosis
the sad sack lark supposes
as the human farm dozes
after night’s time closes
as the cockerel crows’s
then the rest is sneezing roses
head, shoulders, knees ‘n’ toes’s
the spare hip in hypnosis
the rabid badger’s nadgers
this flux – it juxpatoses
…
…
illegible, the message read
‘yer dinner’s in the potting shed’
impossible, the painter cried
to catch the scale of heaven’s wide
impeccable, the chicken clucked
a west wind blew, yer sister sucked
illusory, the curate claimed
& all the bots online were blamed
a hedgerow poet scribbled once
the abrahamic god’s a nonce
& other gods live in this green
the middle east is not my scene
industrious, the playwright minced
the breakfast plates are washed & rinsed
intentional, the milkman knew
a flying pig would scale the blue
…
…
the washing up
won’t do itself
a photograph
of long before
the second left
& carry on
do you recall
her maiden name?
& whisk until
the mixture burps
a robin on
a broken fence
it could be three
or forty six
a toothpaste stain
confused again
we needed salt
& lemon curd
so focus on
a waxing moon
the cobwebs on
the window sill
then let’s begin
before the end
…
…
the woodland to the south
is closer than that hoodie
to your skin
the criss-cross paths
before another climb
– how far to the folly?
too far for your
ticker tape time
with only a catnap
…
…
b rown cow herd immunity
o range skin graft
l emon chicken egg timer
l eopard spot the dog
o ver time ago on
x anthum gum tree house
…