there were at least 3 ants & an earwig in my shoe & as-per the wind chime that technically a zoo so i just wore the left 1 & hopped - as we do like a nucking futter to our evening rendezvous ...
Poem
busy bodies
busy bodies interferin' curtain twitchin' window peerin' stick y' nose in stick y' oar in t' fill in your gaps 'cause y'borin' passin' judgement with disdain we don't do that yet no refrain instead y' tut with god as y' witness just fuck off & MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS ...
on the day of woden
a when-inclined breeze gently rustles the rowan as spring muddles on spreading green things in motion i wonder how old's birdsong? it's a puzzling notion but the sky is blue - like hidden clues on the day of woden ...
teamwork
in the evening garden there formed a sort of buzz a passing car an in-song thrush & other bits of now merged stuff as one sound collectively as one sonic entity it lasted a second - then left in a rush leaving only silence & the eerie hush of dusk ...
nasal hair
oh the mysteries of nasal hair yes the further in years the more that's there do we need these whiskers? do they compliment our naps? i think school should have warned us that people become cats ...
the carrots bluntly told me ‘please go away’
the carrots bluntly told me 'please go away' the magnets had similar 'do one's to say the moth was all preoccupied with the flame so with glass shards in backyards i play my own games ...
backwards challenge
it's harder to wave backwards it's harder to make backwards soup it's tougher to shit sturdy-old turds in reverse or to walk backwards ever-monkeyed until you're primordial GLOOP ...
where laps go
laps suddenly vanish when you're upright & it honestly took me years to understand that laps suddenly vanish when you're upright because they disappear to lapland ...
the snails told me to run away…
eccles cakes & echo chambers april's tangents friends & strangers cobwebs & a minor splinter on the tip of my finger & the nineteen year winter threatenings of former-year's fears doe a female crocodile muntjac deer tears gobshite tapestries woven sporadically osperys are top-notch & spring's a charged battery ...
strange games
i've been spying on you 'cause you've been spying on me i watched you eat a sandwich i was hiding up a tree then i saw the hidden camera you'd installed on the branch you must have seen us coming nice 1 - centuries in advance ...
resarf poetry 