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a bat amongst the pigeons ( snoegip eht tsgnoma tab a )
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a gibbon wrapped in ribbons & sloth upon a racetrack a badger up a ladder & a snail within a mailsack a lizards - as a fossil plus a beetle in a bottle a bat amongst the pigeons & a weasel in a haystack ...
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thinking caps ( spac gnikniht )
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left or right? sky or down? night or day? beige or brown? sleep or dream? land or sea? frost or thaw? wasp or bee? bark or bite? black or red? light or dark? heart or head? smile or cheese? cheek or turn? stick or twig? kiss or spurn? cooks or broth? tin or can? books or worms? spick or span? hills or moles? clogs or shoes? cats or dogs? voles or shrews? vale or tor? hot or cold? ticks or crabs? brass or gold? sun or moon? run or hide? thinking caps - you decide - ...
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saturday morning observations ( snoitavresbo gninrom yadrutas )
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passing cars but nothing parks eyes are tired but up with larks floating in a duffel coat sucking on a menthol sweet daffodils & spots of frost mirror men in empty shops vomit on a cobbled street broken glass & doner meat scribbles spit within the bonce swans upon the river mist piss'eads sleep in bedfordshire in an english country coma hit the fields & breathe the breeze underneath a silken sun fuck the queen & hug a tree birdsong in the bushes ...
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midwinter song ( gnos retniwdim )
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hymn in the morning choruses calling hear in the headland banging a gong here in the blearing snowing a trumpet ringing a springing ding & a dong snore a recorder frost's a conductor warming y' whistle whetting the strong fog on the fiddle murmurs of drizzle yodel til clover bursts in a throng bare in the woodland curses & verses sprinkles of crystal whiting the wrong mist on the lyre wailing & higher there by the fire's where we belong glowing & gliding scaling & sliding icicles chiming midwinter song bees in the bumbles strumming a summer mince as a minstrel stringing along ...
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snail’s pace ( ecap s’lians )
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slug's trudge ...
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seven pence in shrapnel ( lenparhs ni ecnep neves )
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seven pence in shrapnel in a green jacket pocket starlings - as grandma is trapped in a jam jar the ghost of last candlemas floating up an oak tree swans on a duckpond & porridge for supper ...
