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 ...
Poetry
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 ...
nineteen 25
quietly convinced by mysteries & fickleness that twenty 4 hour clocks display the year & not the time i glanced across 1 evening within breathing space of michaelmas & to my surprise you cheeky swine she's done it again - IT'S NINETEEN 25 ...
windmills & turnips forever (!)
aye it was i who set fire to your windmill last whitsun then compelled as you cursed my prized-turnips you cursed my prized-turnips as i burned your windmill 'cause you cursed my prized-turnips - will we ever start learning ? ...
( *** ~~~~ © ~~~~ *** )
this thursday tastes of its morning yawns, great fata morganas & boring forms taylors of harrogate & brownian motion, the pentrich rising, titan's super-salty ocean skara brae but misty & parthenogenesis, genghis khan's pen pal & pied wagtails - my dark nemesis plus the pennines, beige, ash wednesday & some stuff that went astray as per me - sorry now put your tongue away ...
resarf poetry 