…
mozart went to mow
went to mow a meadow
on the moon
…
…
mozart went to mow
went to mow a meadow
on the moon
…
…
though the fat bastard
fasted half the hungry week
while the unsung heroine
modestly sang of her greatness
oh, yet the gobby mime artiste
never fhut the suck up
now the breeze from the south
is colder than a northerly
but the oxymoron seemed
quite bright in conversation
…
…
a letter from
the attic of
your long, lost uncle
a song about
your country cousin’s
chicken casserole
another of those
alt-accounts
( beware the many bots )
the reason why
it’s blue above
& no, not grey today
a diatribe
uncontacted
& ranting in the wilds
dear reader of
each clattering
this isn’t haiku or
an ode to
a pygmy shrew
nor a carrion crow
oh,
even though
it may seem so
sometimes the cuckoo lies
…
…
a funny man walked into
a funny happenstance
on the way to the doctor
– doctor – knock, knock – who’s
there to change a lightbulb
( ? )
…
…
scribbled in the midlands
by a scroat in odd socks
lit by tealight
up before the farmers
read by smoky fishwives
praetorian gardeners
rabid traffic wardens
& seasick oceanographers
at least it’s not the sobbings
of your godmother’s sonnets
or the catatonic purrs
of your long lost uncle’s prose
may contain monkey
nuts & the other
best before last century
peaked in antiquity
i blame the belgians
the gypos & the methodists
sod this for a stare-off
with a freshly painted wall
( huff )
…
…
another suitcase
inside a suitcase
inside a suitcase
inside a suitcase
inside a suitcase
…
…
did the shoot really shoot
like a rascal blowing peas?
or is the shoot forced out
kicking like a drum
major marching on
as march is where the hare
boxes with their silhouette
maybe martians watch us all?
sound is bound in time
& from the thawing ground
goes another gasp
clasping at this foginess
wave with phantom hands
write us all a postcard
too soon like the moon
light reflects the sun’s smile
( ? )
…
…
un pantalon
velours côtelé
as they’re known in france
…
…
tin whistle then
the ghostly folk men
in bright white coats
scrawl this morrow
blue is the new black
unslept in sigh
why is beyond
once upon mute swans
middle eight ten
cold winter day
grey like lady jane
old shuck’s breakfast
beans in a can
the turin shroud wink?
clouds below groan
dick turpin’s neck
turns like warwick’s earl
facing the gaze
rearrange strange
faith in her water
warmer than flames
…
…
feather dusters, feathered friends
dead ends, divs & dividends
kiss the swan & scribble on
feather dusters, feathered friends
paper tigers, paper planes
stripy cats & flying brains
roaring forms on soaring sheets
paper tigers, paper planes
apple presses, apple carts
sticky digits, treacle tarts
haunted orchards, misted us
apple presses, apple carts
power showers, power naps
sunday snoring, thinking caps
‘morning all’ the curtain calls
power showers, power naps
undercover, underpants
second suns & dancing ants
clutter, clatter – down but up
undercover, underpants
kitchen dressers, kitchen sinks
cheeky like a statue’s winks
on the sly with you in lieu
kitchen dressers, kitchen sinks
…