Tagged: poet

when you get confused due to crossed signals

that author

the one you mentioned

you said his book would change my life

it never did

and I can’t remember his name

maybe I should try a vegan diet?

maybe I should trust the stars?

maybe I should try acupuncture and pierce my skin?

meditate in the morning to the sound of whales

we touched finger tips

we held hands

we walked out into the lake

shoulder deep

like babies wading to salvation

baptised

together

there was 20 minutes before you left

for you

there was 15 minutes

left

for us

and I hope you’ve decompressed?

and I hope that we slaughtered the elephants in the room?

blood risk and ivory

weighed against the cost of gold

it was her eyes

( dot the eyes )

it was her eyes

( dot the eyes )

(the space between

her nose and mouth)

in car park bay 157

near where we stepped over the fence we passed the place where

transgressions

could be recorded

and used against

us in a court of law

⁃ how hard can this really be?

the king of candlesticks died in his sleep

on top of the Empire State

(and we knew the bullets wouldn’t hit us)

his shirt

resembled

the wallpaper

in your childhood home

spinning tops on floors

that time when you brother trapped his fingers

between the door

swelling communist red

and all the while I’m waiting for this phone to beep the suspense is killing me

what is the distance now

the distance between

those mementoes of shanty towns

and those souvenirs

the battle against the meridian

the fight against time

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pictures made up of words x 3

  1. Slit dress

The slit in her dress went up to her thigh. She wore scuffed black boots and a backpack that was covered in band patches. She had a tattoo on her ankle that said ACID RAP. She walked past a red phone box. The last one in town.

1989: 10p phone calls to girlfriends

Fingers tasted metallic.

2. 200 year feast

After they landed they butchered the first animal they saw and feasted on it’s meat. 200 years later that day is celebrated by eating a armadillo.

Have you ever seen a blonde haired nun? A bald Rastafarian?

A documentary about a man with three knees.

3. Iron Maiden to the knees

The found photo was of a boy with missing teeth and bleeding gums. In his right hand he held a bunch of keys. He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt that came down to his knees. In the background a car was on fire.

His mother, long gone, mane him after her favourite singer.

sour

the spilt milk begins to sour

the cat turns up his nose

the trees creak

under the weight of the birds that perch there and the

trees roots

criss cross like the tube map tourists follow

with their eyes and theirs fingers

from

A to B

an intersection of coloured lines

the flowers will begin to flower

untouched coffee where the body lay

week

Monday: slow, sluggish, a black mark on the week, early, pan of boiling water bubbling, waiting for the egg

three beats off

Tuesday : preparation for after hours committee meetings, bored words, lazy notes, sleep

the mistress awaits

Wednesday: a hill in the valley,

day as median

day as balm

a climb to the summit

the expansive view and the journey downhill

plaster on a child’s scrapped knee

Thursday : the perpetual night before Christmas

always the bridesmaid

Friday: the precipice and the

fade into something, penultimate meeting, a graph, lines,

final preparations for things in the future , a dream of tomorrow tomorrow

tomorrow

pilots

the frozen ground will snap the shovel

there will be no burials today

the gravediggers

tell them

they can stand down

stretch their backs, rest, look at their calloused fingers

this season was no good for florists

and outdoor types

the worlds most expensive stamp was licked and stuck on an envelope

posted to a collector in Wiesbaden

tales of airmen and pilots (disfigured faces from the crash, leather jacket, altitude sickness & frozen feet

spinning dials on the dashboard, propeller & undercarriage)

•the orators

•atrocity exhibit

•C

your Boy Scout badges won’t help now

arrived in the clearing

arrived at the agreed destination covered by shadow

and covered in snow

we are people our parents don’t know

shadows thrown by low hanging vine at the edges of the outskirts of

town

a frayed jean hem once pristine

a tablecloth of heirlooms of porcelain saucers and the chipped rim of a tea cup

handkerchief in hand as you wave goodbye at the station

all those familiar places will be expunged from the map

his fear of warm milk

lactose breasts that slowly drip

a damaged tap with a snapped washer

lost in the delusion of others in the day they shut down the press

when the windscreens of the cars froze over when the frost made the pavement sparkle like diamonds

when little children’s fingers drew patterns on misty glass

we await the thaw

when the ice melts the city weeps

your arm full of Boy Scout badges won’t help you now

phonebox

in the future

they will think the phone boxes were monoliths

pieces of ancient technology where the people of the past

communicated with the gods

but now they stand neglected and mute