Poetry

hector pokes jehovah’s bones

~

hector pokes jehovah’s bones ( senob s’havohej sekop rotceh )

…

two plus two
is fivefold doom
the sky is crashing down

older than
a spinning wheel
anew is back in town

face the beige
the gander’s prop
is feeding bots ‘n’ ghouls

bumble on
now, little drones
& bee the willing fools

bongo so
’til trumpets blow
until the bellends knell

pave the road
then shat y’load
& build a better hell

when the sun
is bicycles
& compasses confused

hector pokes
jehovah’s bones
( establishment approved )

…

treewheeling

~

treewheeling ( gnileehweert )

…

one plus two is tree
as tree’s the magic number
tree is company

further, tree’s a crowd
the best things in life are tree
tree strikes & you’re out

tree the evening stars
be footloose & fancy tree
drinking cups of tree

as tree as a bird
play tree dimensional chess
eating a tree lunch

tree the light of day
i’ll tree you in the next life
singing tree blind mice

get away scot-tree
& tree the wood for the trees
tree, myself & i

…

scraps, maps & missives

~

scraps, maps & missives ( sevissim & spam ,sparcs )

…

pen of pencil sharpeners

should the moon permit

       soon is pickled in a jar

       yesterday’s tomorrow

colanders & calendars

so gather scatter cushions

      ’til the roman roads

      curve like space-time

spittle meets the sun

rainbows stuck in traffic’s jam

      tangled as the brambles

      of next week’s daydream

ants ‘n’ ammonites

cotton socks ‘n’ jacobites

      spring is heeled like jack

      jumping roof to roof

face a pheasant’s brace

death is television

      evil’s mediocrity

      & cucumbers in fridges

this is not the song

a woodcock in a wood would sing

      like a fucking trooper

      in h-flat major

…

down on the bot farm

~

down on the bot farm ( marf tob eht no nwod )

…

up before up
dawn does not compute

water fake faces
glowing on the pastures

digital chickens
lay them little eggs

sing in algorithms
gather in a bastard

or an inter’s net
spodding on inside

down on the bot farm
under darker clouds

plough for new identities
while we dream

milk the weasel teats
of the sleepless codes

…

under cuckoo clocks in flight

~

under cuckoo clocks in flight ( thgilf ni skcolc ookcuc rednu )

…

little disc shaped eggs
in the hayloft of the barn
when the shootings stop

soon the hatchlings coo
parents spinning back & forth
frequent, these mealtimes

feed ’em earthworms
pellets from an air rifle
small balls of play-doh

marzipan & chips
twitch ’em with binoculars
r.s.p.b this

in an anorak
or a shower proof cagoule
spring is sprung abound

what a vernal sight
under cuckoo clocks in flight
clay pigeons nesting

…