quietly convinced by mysteries & fickleness that twenty 4 hour clocks display the year & not the time i glanced across 1 evening within breathing space of michaelmas & to my surprise you cheeky swine she's done it again - IT'S NINETEEN 25 ...
photography
windmills & turnips forever (!)
aye it was i who set fire to your windmill last whitsun then compelled as you cursed my prized-turnips you cursed my prized-turnips as i burned your windmill 'cause you cursed my prized-turnips - will we ever start learning ? ...
an unwanted gift
mikey gave it to charlotte charlotte gave it to franz franz gave it to wilhelm wilhelm gave it to hans hans gave it to phyllis phyllis gave it to lisa lisa gave it to niamh niamh gave it to peter peter gave it to pablo pablo gave it to suki suki gave it to saladin saladin gave it to susie susie gave it to fergus who slightly dithered then after wondering whether to keep it gave it back to mikey again ...
thoughts on thoughts
thoughts come most go some throb some glow some prod some bite some come in pieces some fight some fright some charm some bear gifts with intent to harm some abstract-mime some dance but often it's ants in their pants some sing some wail some want my mind it's not for sale some suck with a straw some dazejà vu they've been in before some spark some extinguish some talk all foreign some dabble in english some sneak in through the tunnels some knock & say 'hello' thoughts come most go ...
my hit list
patrick alternator jonathon crayon anthony histamine patricia liason marianna trenchfoot godfrey guineafowl william abstract-windfarm perrywinkle owl christina chrysanthemum tracheotomy smithe henry spinning jenny alexander tithe simon peter cathode whitstable june-whitbread are imaginary people or soon very dead x ...
in search of that time honoured nature po-et-ry
i left by the back door at around 9.03 in search of that time honoured nature po-et-ry. the meh pedestrian usual shite i'm sure you've read 'n' heard that no one nowadays really writes just jiggles the words. but by by 9.07 (ish) the weather had turned shit the animals they scattered fast the nymphs they were amiss. so amidst this bastard shat i decided to head back then went home & penned the usual gubbins in hindsight - thank fuck for that x ...
vernal ditherings
springtime never really dies instead out of season it hides & skives yet old ewes & rams were once new lambs there are traces of spring in everything then cometh the owl it launches an attack a dawn raiding party then winter is sacked yes death to death breathe life on black aye it's called springtime 'cause it always bounces back ...
a pause
there's a word in your ear half-stuck in its entrance as another word dithers on the tip of your tongue then sometimes pins & needles on your fingertips are tingles of words awaiting ink & paper still unwritten, unbecome,unsung - hurry up ...
as tough as old walls
drystone walls they reign over this land great baseborn barriers maintained by man bricks placed by hand all weather - withstand enduring time's span because they're hard because they can ...
ǝbuɐɥɔ ɟo sǝɔɹoɟ
certain things suck us in charbydis an opening maelstroms pigeon holes black holes lack control willow weep tree sorrow leaches frost hollows deficits gain more different than before ...
resarf poetry 