…
rameses the grade
c minus on a good day
dream while he’s awake
…
Poem
toasty
…
under yawning morning sun
comfortably spread
on the slated roof above the
buttery below – purrs
the marmalade cat
…
late may’s latest statement
…
as a rainy day
that just might be a whitsun
i shall return soon
…
the early burrrk
…
oh, he’s far too soon
like a duffel coat in june
yet sweating under noonish
suns – to the shops to
buy some christmas cards
…
coming soon – in june
…
daylight is stretched
like a yawning contortionist
while my hydrangea
gently wakes your dahlia
& then we all sneeze
..,
ovine intermission
…
sheep invaded the pitch
play has been cancelled
so the goal is left wide open
like a whole in the fence
while the flock graze on
…
the scores
…
little bo peep found
a twenty pound note
on the pavement outside
a nineteen forties prefab
on her sixtieth birthday
…
eight things the internet aint
…
the internet is not
your long lost cousin, susan
the internet is not
afraid of pickled gherkins
the internet is not
great uncle percy’s milkman
the internet is not
an old forest in spring
the internet is not
from the inner-earth
the internet is not
a digital excalibur
the internet is not
quite dead yet
…
an accident
…
peter piper knocked
a pickled egg jar off
aisle eleven’s shelf
in yonder supermarket
– glass went everywhere –
…
we await your form
…
stranger than strange
mister vista’s jawline
it’s hairy over there
shrouded in cloud
the chinny chin chin
of some old god
or an otherling
maybe a monster?
depends who’s singing
we await your form
stroking hmmm anew
a moon for each sun
a soon in every though
blue dawn whispering
green death gleaming
whence in why ‘n’ there
wagtails wag
a brown hare legs it
let’s head west in vests
frogmen of the east
friends of phantom fog
…
resarf poetry 