photography

the storm in my eyes is only your shadow

~

the storm in my eyes is only your shadow ( wodahs ruoy ylno si seye ym ni mrots eht )

…

there on the spot

where all hinterlands cross

fingers in knots

crystalline air

– snow, if you must

& butter my toast

with your sweet toe jam

in between deep green

runner bean daydreams

is a dead red door

sort of metaphor

yet the cycle spanners

with a siskin song

& a badger in the bracken

will the dogwood bark

if the alder catkins purr?

paper planes sail then

underneath solo

pear tart harpsichord

in the other-other garden

there is a parsnip

that never parps out

owls in the background

let them eat jaffa cakes

…

twelve daze of yulemas

~

twelve daze of yulemas ( sameluy fo ezad evlewt )

…

twelve elves in shell suits

bobbing in the woodland

eleven ewes are loose

– there’s a goose with a gun

ten winter wrens

if the pickled pen says so

nine pints of water

from the spring before the river

eight middle eights

in a shitty christmas songbook

seven pheasant feathers

in the field behind the graveyard

six zip cardigans

knitted by the pixie folk

five chocolate coins

in lieu of legal tender

four androids

for every human here

three ducks waddle

on the bridge beside the weir

two sharp pebbles

from the innards of my shoe

& a parnsip in a parp

from the bandstand in my bottom

…

the mud beneath

~

the mud beneath ( htaeneb dum eht )

…

the mud beneath’s a sodden bog
a cloak of oak, a croaking log

the mizzled mist is missing sheep
a dragon snores & all is sleep

the deep is up, the south is north
the east is west, the back is forth

a feather falls – but falls from where?
your mother’s face, a leveret hare

the twisting shapes, a dip, a dive
a spooling ghoul, the air’s alive

the scattered land is sleeping cloud
the taj mahal, the turin shroud

a circle spins a string of yarn
a distant screech, a secret barn

& all is balls, a yawning day
the pastures pant, the grass is grey

a sunken see, the squinting sands
the seasons jazz with phantom hands

the mud beneath’s a sodden bog
a plod within the morning’s fog
…

question air

~

question air ( ria noitseuq )

…

pale beyond the gale
winter’s lost her twisted tail
in between the wars

all is yawning balls
cross & dot the whats ‘n’ wares
pause & question air

name your favourite cheese?
stiltons, cheddars, red leicesters
eighties, goats or bries?

why the summer haze?
did you build the pyramids?
brown sauce or ketchup?

is it sweet above
i upon the sodden ground?
why don’t penguins fly?

do i breathe in you
like i breathe in thee & see
dragons dancing breath?

gleaming, sylphid forms
of a speckled, spawning morn
plodding on the leas

why this stifled still?
is the off a peaking trough?
when will you blow so?
…

feathers

~

feathers ( srehtaef )

…

a friend from the welkin

the cousin of pens

the death of a pheasant

a gift from a gull

a bit of a robin

the heart of a pillow

a wind from the south

the spit in the mouth

a swallow, a swift

the tail of a quail

is dusting again

a flap in the attic

a hawk from the north

the kingfisher’s clothes

a cockerel, a crow

the dark on the snow

a snark of a lark

& villagers sticking

the truck in themselves

with plucks of a chicken

the pigeon’s a goat

the mallard is sitting

& off is a swan

– over tarred skin

…

doe ray me poem

~

doe ray me poem ( meop em yar eod )

…

so rainy
piss upon the pissed upon
’til the fucker dries

though maybe
all is not a knotted ball
as the crocus flies

oh, daisy
ride ‘er like a bicycle
lilting lullabies

blow hazy
spin it like a weather vane
scatter whats ‘n’ whys

milfs milk men
mercury is monkey me
whistle, winter wren

sing ’til then
ink within y’ blizzard brain
scribble with a pen

glow, grey bee
bumble in this in between
minstrels mincing pies

doe ray me
cut the crap ‘n’ zap attack
with y’ laser eyes
…

suck a pickled pepper

~

suck a pickled pepper ( reppep delkcip a kcus )

…

suck a pickled pepper

sink the kitchen dresser

piss another puddle

chickens in a huddle

swans upon a morning

as the sky is warring

hanging like a lizard

wizard in the blizzard

deep ‘n’ crisp ‘n’ even

fuck it – ’tis the season

supper’s in a cauldron

all is balls ‘n’ golden

rolling hills ‘n’ barrels

tossers singing carols

sniff the winter roses

as the summer dozes

ring-a-ring-a riddle

rhymin’ life ‘n’ piddle

glued upon the glooming

’til the blossom’s blooming

scribble is a couplet

rhythm is a drum kit

suck a pickled pepper

in a christmas sweater

…