i am a mirror

~

i am a mirror  (  rorrim a ma i  )




whistle in the breeze's sneezes

plod the streets as pots a simmer

in this piffle, spittle village

ghosts are floating post to pillar


phantoms flim upon the cobbles

tits & titters in the litter

hunger drums & weasels scuttle

feast on meat - it's death for dinner


muck is spreading in the butchers

irk the scourge of little shitters

adders flapping in the taverns

every cunt's a curtain twitcher


words are turds but birds are feathered

black sunshine upon a river

bells are ringing, saturn's singing

glimmer this - i am a mirror

...




































































































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a teacher & a pupil

~

a teacher & a pupil  (  lipup a & rehcaet a  )





a teacher & a pupil

the apples in y' strudel

the doodles of y' noodle

& the shoes

upon y' shit


a crumble in the oven

a lover & a cousin

the mass that blacks the coven

& a dungeon

in a pit


a riddle in a scribble

a scribble in a riddle

a pygmy in the middle

& the spittle

in y' spit


a plaster & a bandage

the sand within y' sandwich

the fleas & flows of language

that's poetry

- that's it

...




























































































































to do in feb

~

to do in feb  (  bef ni od ot  )





walk the dog as catkins naps

trudge the cusp of blossoming


spot a crocus in the snow

feel the breeze of winter's sting


prance the dance of daffodils

jig with pixies in a ring


sweeten tea as serpents stir

bird the blurs & sing til spring

...




















































spitting dusk

~

spitting dusk  (  ksud gnittips  )




the thicket bristles in the wood

as ghosts are gloaming in the leas

a muffle in the scheme of things

as breezes hum & ruffle trees


the grasses whisper in chinese

& chatter through the afternoon

until the fly that hovers spies

a sunken sun, a rising moon


& sitting in a sodden ditch

within the still - a poet harks

the tooting sounds, a screeching copse

& hoots abound - the owls are larks


so scribble i with squinting eyes

i'm spitting dusk in dimming light

i'm scrawling on as supper calls

i wave the day & kiss the night

...