i had a row about owls with my shadow last year so now we're quite distant when once so near i think he moved to timbuktu or was it skegness? it's lonely when the light's right & i miss our games of chess ...
Poem
put y’ foot down
a brownfield site among the shite on a wank december's night a sewage farm the bowels of hell a plague pit piled vile sights - foul smells a crash-smash drenched in weeping rain among the bits of plane meets train or a y'oldey war - those cannon balls nah, that's no place for a picnic at all ...
plods
let's plod these meadows leagues & yards the sunshine turns the sheep shit hard them hedgerows sing of bits of spring charybdis an opening the buttercups are yellowing the bluebells ring the nettles sting so let's roam this shat for bastard miles plus once upon a nackered stile i found a wallet with loads of cash in it so i kept it ... ( ... author nodes ... sometimes poems ... just end ... the don't end-end, they just end, sorry about that ... )
when cows lie
when cows lie under clear blue skies with not a single cloud at all is this a form of fraud ? ...
f*cki*g *oems, *astar* th*ngs …
they hide behind bushes then flash us unawares then leg it off in the nud somewhere over there they sneak into our gardens in the perverse depths of night then in the middle of the lawn they shit a massive shite they babble next to us on buses when loadsa double seats are free clothed but recognizable please stop bothering me & so i shout through the morrow mist as birds begin to sing 'SHAKESPEARE WAS A FRAUDULENT WANKER - FUCKING POEMS, BASTARD THINGS' ...
( … it’s 3 again … )
yes there are moments when the head goes gets sucked into the hedgerows part magic - part mad then roughly 1 third fuck knows ...
oh well & bollocks to it …
wood land land wood handstands good good mugwort rickshaws foxgloves jigsaws deep roots fun nymphs shin pads sun glimpse somewhere bark free top copse wrong tree ...
science-shit
if that there archimedes had never-ever washed he'd have stunk to high-heaven & we'd be at a loss but he got in that bath then them waters got deeper thus inventing the word & moment - EUREKA ...
there’s a badger in my soup
there's a badger in my soup & i've no idea why the world's tiniest badger it's the size of a fly it wasn't on the menu i don't know what to do there's a badger in my soup - no, wait now there's 2 ... (author nodes; the plot thickens (again) )
a fortnight’s worth of beardy-weird stubble on a day bursting with bubbles
carbonated horoscopes the morning blows its straw nucleation for the nation bristly hangs the jaw effervescent lathered barms balloons of consumed air fuddles bastard bubbles versus confused facial hair ...
resarf poetry 