Poem

jugband greens

…

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

( ? )

…

historical blame racket

…

margeret of anjou never
rummaged through your wheelie bins

no visigoth ever
misgendered your labradoodle

my great, great, great, great grandfather
did not jump the queue

in the bakers yesterday
or ghost you on tiktok

as the past is ossified
not the cobwebs of tomorrow

but the bones of groan elsewhere
( the future’s yet unwoven )

so clive of india
did not fuse your brand new toaster

& no ancient phonecian
ever pissed on your dog roses

…

trickster variations

…

he’s banana skins
on footpaths on the sly

& the itching powder
in our restless underpants

he’s that jester’s hat
upon your eggy head

one side is green
& the other is red

he is the laughter
in the dogwood wood

knock, knock, knock
but no one is there – yeah

he is a puzzlesome
whiff in the air

the traffic light sprite
captain spanners

a sputtering machine
& the gum on your flip flops

the answers, my deer
are antlers on a postcard

…

snapping time

…

the light inside

beyond stained glass

windows glows &

winter’s wind blows

her bright teeth bite

the seventh was

a pair, those two

so number five

& man alive

it can be this

don’t focus on

the moon within

or come what make

straw manifest

your own nowhere

so don’t go there

o’clock

…