…
bumblebees each evening
second guessing breakfast
trees between those wheaty fields
beans on buttered ghost
& the pelican grins
…
…
bumblebees each evening
second guessing breakfast
trees between those wheaty fields
beans on buttered ghost
& the pelican grins
…
…
then a collared dove
shat on your hat, my true love
two forty seven
…
…
yes, quite a pious chap
a monkish, boffin brained
polymathic poet bloke
from them-there saxon times
with a very clean anus
…
…
lacing up my tongue
the world is run by cobblers
& they’ve got no sole
…
…
spring in the afternoon
the closet saxophonist
plays in his basement
softer than the blossom
until the moon twigs
…
…
a scatter graph
a falling tree
the silent sky
is calling me
it’s pickled eggs
perhaps below
a sort of flute
a piccolo
so soon the moon
before the sun
a smoking road
an open gun
the spanners came
a muddled life
each cul-de-sac
is doubled strife
oh broken flow
a tit in bits
so jigsaw all
& see what fits
the custard cans
& cantaloupes
a tudor rose
spaghetti hoops
…
…
yet the poet lived
to bore us all again
so
the river found the sea
then became an estuary
rain fell on the desert
like custard on dessert
but
the fire in my heart
was only saint elmo
the bee in your bonnet
was a lost bluebottle
plus
the trees played possum
at the bottom of the garden
the sous chef knew
a recipe for remedy
thus
the cowherd heard
the cows moo music
…
…
distortion morning
a peach in each socket
so the scarerows vanished
a madman’s notepad
in your anorak pocket
…
…
a village lost in fog
perhaps the flying dutchman
your long lost cousin
five leaves left
on yonder english oak
as the river man plays
say what you meantime
in the great unrhyming
as the dormice snore
so, it’s november
then beyond the tentacles
of october’s octopus
scatter each thought
like stale breadcrumbs
& feed the phantom ducks
here in the midlands
bolting the blue
& loosening screws
gold became grey – we’re
waiting for the flood
to swallow us whole
…
…
we’re all in on it but you
even auntie valerie
great uncle percival
missus evans-sake
arthur yard-left
the ghost of last easter
hyperspace brian
the milkman – the greengrocer
& the greengrocer’s cat
…