…
on a muddled day
as the beanstalks climb
up ‘n’ up away
blue bewilders grey
once upon a rhyme
pen the when of then
with the wink of know
chuckle rubber hen
murmur maids in men
fishy be thy flow
paper planes ‘n’ cars
magic carpet burn
phantom handlebars
yonder’s trah-luh-lahs
yesterday’s an urn
open books ‘n’ worms
squirming in tin cans
aahs becoming erms
piffle reaffirms
shat is hitting fans
sigh a butterfly
sun between the rain
as the crowbars fly
speckled you & i
dot the dots again
…
…
tractor beam evening
two wood pigeons
new grey trainers
us below in though
or shadow plus one
up on his lamppost
do you coo too?
vegetables & voodoo
singsong sixish
mister porter’s daughter
thoughts of missus worthington
sun behind the curtains
certain of your skirting boards
& unburnt crumpets
five sips left
aluminium tripods
…
…
wild grass season
wild rye & wheat
sedge below the hedgerow
by the boggy ditch
picture this my pitchfork
tongued yokel lover
hay field trips
where the air is sneezes
& grass snakes slither
like your wheelbarrow hips
…
…
the bracken bracing east
because the baker burnt so
a curtain in your twitches
face the kitchen window
& blow me a kismet
…
…
two spare buttons
round like burial mounds
cyclical discs
circular like logic
on the surface of an echo
stand the sentinel them
sewn like a seedling
tight threadwork
woven in for coming wars
& accidents & neither or’s
beneath the inside pocket
of your lucky green jacket
…
…
decalcify
the white cliffs of dover
& call the eiffel tower
‘the poundland blackpool tower’
flatten arthur’s seat
& let’s have arthur’s patio
rename the taj mahal
it’s already several restaurants
that all do chicken bhuna
& let’s build h.s 2
from here to timbuktu
or the arse end of mongolia
…
…
while the wise crow flies
in zig-zag directions
while onion dicers weep
& the resting dough expands
while the soap star dies
& the stunt man explodes
while occasional tables
pretend that they’re a chair
while your air guitar
gently plucks a scale &
while the curate’s egg
is scrambled for your breakfast
while temporary bus stops
disappear from here again
i’ll write another postcard
to your uncle rose in scunthorpe
…
…
tuesday morning swanned in
with the gutsy grace
of a fatso ballerina
with popcorn lung
after sunday’s oh so
suspicious demise
maybe colonel mustard
was clueless too in cluedo
& mrs. white staged it all
with a crafty poem
then legged it for the sunshine
or got bored with board games
( ? )
as lizards bask in warm
summer something blizzards
let a second moon hatch
from the cracking shell
of the scrambled eggheads head
in a muddle’s up
peaches inside stones
fruitful be thy quarry
…
…
the strangest of birds
a bunt out tealight
bite the stifled brightness
south of this north
when the west shakes
one lozenge at a time
as pop flattens
the cotton clouds growling
& her feathers rain down
…
…
your quill is running out of ink
your quill is running out of in
your quill is running out of i
your quill is running out of
your quill is running out o
your quill is running out
your quill is running ou
your quill is running o
your quill is running
your quill is runnin
your quill is runni
your quill is runn
your quill is run
your quill is ru
your quill is r
your quill is
your quill i
your quill
your quil
your qui
your qu
your q
your
you
yo
y
…
