On the branches there's blossom hints of pink white bits like phosphum some clouds or cotton floaty wreckless flotsam undead as the possum high like Nelson's Column & ne'er to be forgotten it's a corpus callosum as it bridges that gap between Winter & Spring on the branches there's blossom it's a curious thing ...
Poem
weekend witches
Weekend witches & Beltane pagans once yearly-nearly ramblers & blue moon dabblers. Wedding drinkers & funeral weepers occasional tables the occasionally unstable. Hy-Brasil & déjà vu a solar eclipse or the Phoenix, of course too. Brief glimpses of HELL & scarlet pimpernels plus fuck-it-that'll-do rhymers - bloody part-timers ...
muddy corduroy trousers
Muddy corduroy trousers on a trip into town keeping me safe from urban clatter & hate protected by the Earth put your faith in its brown you are my amulet my evil eye - bus home - survived ...
the 1st of feb
Head contrary on the 1st of February as impending Candlemas hangs thick in the air just like congealed school custard sans the upper skin layer white rabbits - white rabbits or a pair of mountain hares? Beyond the edgelands of January into the rugged vast of where? Fuck knows - early days again no wings but whims & a prayer x ...
sunday sermon
Many great tales shall remain untold there's cold in warmth there's warmth in cold there's sanity in madness & happiness in sadness plus misfortune in luck 'cause God's a fickle fuck. Amen ...
the nether regions
Travellers often stop, prod & ask us when I'm pretending to be asleep on tardy cobbled streets 'excuse me, do you know the way to Holland please?' & I reply 'why, certainly' then I gesture duly East. I hope they're good swimmers ...
multiple discharges
The incident with the euphonium that triggered sheer pandemonium, the day it almost snowed in August heralding a darker dawn chorus or the time when you disguised your reflection yet it still looked exactly like you - aye ink all these things & write it right through ...
how to fly
You'll never actually fly fly aye sadly that's ridiculous unless you have loads of feather-stuff attached to both your arm-things yet then you'd TWAT into the sea (cite daft Icarus) But there's always metaphor of course & beyond this in a sortofishy allegory plus dead tough drugs i.e Nurofen Plus a mate of mine once dropped 3. Fuckin' nutter ...
our arcane
A secret stamp collection stashed away in the attic or a potter's wheel hidden in the cellar down below. A severed human head beneath the patio yes - every1 needs a hobby but does every1 needs to know ? ...
them chattering
Always on a missive but never from God superstitions intermissions probably just odd misleading breezes but the branches still sing scrap yards & scratch cards most days mean these things ...
resarf poetry 