Category: edit

(He had a)

head like a planet

pot marked like a meteor impact

a mug shot on a 1,000 police walls

fingerprints like the map

contours of mountains

the peaks

the peaks

he pissed in the wound

and it smelt like burning hair

and I dreamed of pressing lips against her and decided I would rescue her in a time machine of my own design

I would rescue her to soundtrack of violins and cellos notes played over a cold landscape of snow and crippled trees

and her insides are alive

and safe in their place for

today

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the janitor at the library wanted to be a baby

naked and suckling on a breast

– but he just swept floors and emptied bins

– he looked at people in clothes and imagined them naked 

the larger the person

the greater shadow

& fingerprints are like maths

you can’t argue with the facts

a retina scan at the door

that wouldn’t let me in

my eyes weren’t on file

wheres your favourite poem now?

buried in the fields at the edge of town where all those scarecrows had their clothes stolen

reduced to straw

and when the wind blew the scarecrows disappeared

and

the crows returned

a whole murder of them

that scene in Papillon

primitive WiFi slows down connection to a crawl

dropped out midway through conversations about obsolete technology

people in a group all talking about what they’ve seen on the internet

kid falling over

dogs dressed as ninjas

Hitler cats

Beef-burger garnishes

there was nothing of substance there was nowt that was real

that scene in Papillon when the screen turns upside down and he says YOU HAVE BEEN ACCUSED OF A WASTED LIFE scared the shit out of me

in time the spaceman will discover the monolith

submarine

I want to replace her eyes with petals and satellites

and in this submarine where we lay

with all the world above us

the sonar sends us to sleep

the weather vane is stationary

everything is motionless and will only move when I give the command

her sugary insides are alive

and safe in there place

today a body of miracles and muscles

reading this will not improve your life

all the car lines up

going nowhere fast

all the colours

reds and blues

green silver and black

dented doors and all the registration plates are codes

I can’t decipher

this morning

has been going on for a week

( he had a mantra

rule one was “WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN” )

some join the dots to make beautiful constellations

some join the dots only to end up with a bloody mess of

childlike scribbles

I’m somewhere in between

someone is stealing my data

and all the FOR SALE signs are closing in

blocking out the sun

in the light

my shadow is twice as long as it is in the dark

simian space

after the crucifixion