…
two spare buttons
round like burial mounds
cyclical discs
circular like logic
on the surface of an echo
stand the sentinel them
sewn like a seedling
tight threadwork
woven in for coming wars
& accidents & neither or’s
beneath the inside pocket
of your lucky green jacket
…
…
unplugged in glug
improv workshop window
open both the doors
unbolting lightning
best before each morning
like a sleeping tree
rearranging puddles
on the grey car park
interjecting jet streams
burnt tongue offerings
green parakeet street
yet that clarinet
…
…
decalcify
the white cliffs of dover
& call the eiffel tower
‘the poundland blackpool tower’
flatten arthur’s seat
& let’s have arthur’s patio
rename the taj mahal
it’s already several restaurants
that all do chicken bhuna
& let’s build h.s 2
from here to timbuktu
or the arse end of mongolia
…
…
while the wise crow flies
in zig-zag directions
while onion dicers weep
& the resting dough expands
while the soap star dies
& the stunt man explodes
while occasional tables
pretend that they’re a chair
while your air guitar
gently plucks a scale &
while the curate’s egg
is scrambled for your breakfast
while temporary bus stops
disappear from here again
i’ll write another postcard
to your uncle rose in scunthorpe
…
…
yes, my carbonated mate
is best served from the fridge
slurp him high on chemicals
he’s coloured artificial
been bubbly since bright youth
& still slightly uncouth
he’s mister fizzle out
( he’ll be flat in half an hour )
…
…
gathered like a teatime
guaranteed a deep, deep
sigh & an eye-roll
over the clover leaves
from the greenest pasture
gone like a cuckoo
toodleooh then
since wore more pringle
& rediscovered ovaltine
since was slowly down
a grainy midlands town
vast glacial cracks
until one magic june’s
rainbow revelation
rebooted, regenerated
life on the patches
after the wife ran
off with the milkman’s cousin
todger intact
thank god for that, though
( free online to read )
…
…
once upon a picnic
lemonade in hand
cheese & pickle me, please
if the which is sand
pardon then & marbles
as the peach is canned
daze a haze of gravy
in the greenest land
time is like the blossom
when the day is blue
we became a statue
speckled i & you
thee, the gleaming milksop
’til the pale is tanned
i stand on the bandtstand
but am not in the band
…
…
man eats moon
move over mozart
mars is next
…
…
breaking news
the elephant hawk moth
isn’t an elephant
or a hawk
but may still be a moth
( we’ll keep you updated )
…
…
fifty p in change
underneath the sofa
eight greylags
vee a skein above
honking over rooftops
slates & chimney pots
sixty six freckles
upon your uncle’s arse cheeks
gravy skin suit
the parson’s nose job
best before the twenty eighth
reheat on gas mark four
pardon my parsnips
slide like a friday
thirty three minutes past
two in the afternoon
…
resarf poetry 