…
somewhere there where
the orange peel ends up
& rests in pea pods
as parsnip tops rot on
at the bottom of the garden
…
Poetry
when couplets attack
…
but if it fits – it must go in
& so the rhymers stroke a chin
the breezes blow in figure eights
the bubblegum sun masticates
the clouds aloud, a bursting sky
the rest is but a butterfly
a post-it-note, the shepherds blah
the leopards here not spotted far
upon another pigeon day
the poets float & scroat away
a sort of door, a flowing so
a cattle cat & mornings glow
a certain number’s syllables
the stresses dee in intervals
between the dums & on she plods
& then she ends, you lucky sods
…
further & more
…
beyond the swan
& in between
the closing sings
an opening
the seasons tease
the breezes crow
the flow is though
a river’s bend
a kingfisher
a fissure here
apocryphal
is possible
the near is far
a wooden spoon
a garden gate
& middle eight
a flighty sky
my feathered friend
the end is just
the cusp of soon
but when is then
& rubber gloves
or turtle doves
the morning squawks
…
tea light diary
…
catnip christening
whistle stopwatch
wave function onions
scatter graph paper
tea light diary
tie dye minister
gobshite obelisk
…
relatively speaking
…
i’m your long lost cousin’s
twice removed step-sister’s
godson’s uncle’s
mother in law’s lovechild’s
least favourite poet
…
here’s what the morrow brought
…
overcast but dry
grey like some wagtails
lukewarm coffee
in a green denby mug
two wood pigeons
on an overhead lamppost
aches in extremities
for walks to even out
a face in the clouds
of your former p.e teacher
his old crimewatch mugshot
maybe he’s on bail now?
yesterday’s t-shirt
& toenail clippings
& own brand custard creams
dunked like a witch
…
our odd-bod god
…
our odd-bod god
who art in anorak
halloween be thy easter
…
( here’s what you could have won )
…
a one pound poundland voucher
a pint of puddle water
a secondhand veruca sock
– left or right – you choose
& a poem on a post-it note
…
august augustus
…
august augustus
a fat black adder
basking on a rock
august augustus
a den in the woods
& a sprained left ankle
august augustus
lemon barley waterfalls
& gourds from other worlds
august augustus
darker then each morrowtide
verilly like bellends
august augustus
the face of tomorrow
upon your toasted pikelet
august augustus
don’t jump the queue
or they’ll have you too
august augustus
frothy washed cars
& a magic carpet burn
…
a few chin strokers
…
the skeletal remains
of yesterday teatime
a temporary bus stop
on the dark side of selene
two pumice pebbles
in your left espadrille
everything slows down – even
particle accelerators
the arse of king arthur
on your burnt english muffin
the clouds retreated like
a cockerel versus crocodiles
the b-road layby
in the corner of your eye
is gammy like last friday
since the crossword setter vanished
…
