…
our odd-bod god
who art in anorak
halloween be thy easter
…
Poem
( 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
…
journal jerks
…
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
…
the mithering of now
…
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
…
my pitchfork tongued yokel lover
…
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
…
midsummer’s autumn moment
…
the bracken bracing east
because the baker burnt so
a curtain in your twitches
face the kitchen window
& blow me a kismet
…
( reinforcements )
…
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
…
monumentalist
…
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
…
