Sunday, 19 November 2017

Ghanaian stamps

I meet J. We eat ramen at a new place in town. Clef statements emboss the lullaby chic that dominates the plaid shirts. I have sake w/ my food. We have enough of the airliner dining. After the food we go to a bar that has a lot of video game cabinets. We play streetfighter and other games. J makes a lilac out of a tea pot I have nothing to offer except my father’s rare collection of West African stamps. ‘Oh, the Ghanaian ones are nice.’ J  offers sympathetically. The Moonwalker game is funny. There are lots of weird things in the game like the phallic robotic bad guys. Bubbles is also a power up that affords MJ the ability to become a giant laser shooting robot. With the church only a skip away we buy replica crown thorns. It is a good time.

clay stars
a lawn 
full of dandelions

Friday, 17 November 2017

The laser show of 1804

They were enjoying the laser show when they composed the most famous poem of 1804. D made the situation awkward.

new moon
the patch where
the daffodils were

Two youngsters sat on W’s lap and counted the flies on Ullswater. He wrote most of his poetry in found cheque books. He wrote most of his poetry about the number of flies on Ullswater.

Thursday, 16 November 2017

goat star

frozen boutique

an onionskin
locks a bucket

the moon
nothing more
than a cliche


fixed deck

the fish’s lifestyle
down stream

there’s a word
for when a leaf
is withered but not fallen


trick cards

if buddy holly
didn’t die

in that plane crash
he’d probably
be dead by now


goat star

all my autumn
wishes came true

a sweet potato's hymen
moving along
to saskatoon

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

7000 dead sea witches

collecting pebbles
on the beach
uncle’s illness


dead sea witches
the buoyancy 
of my crutch


on my son's chest
a giant black mouse


the dull drip
of my words


Tuesday, 14 November 2017

rice milk

rice milk
the low sun through
even lower clouds


full moon
my son's love
of squash


feeling like this could be a painting of hell - autumn sunset



zuh zoom the branch where a kingfisher....


Saturday, 11 November 2017

remembrance poppy

blue sky
what does it remember
this remembrance poppy?
(after Basho)


mistaking nudes
for clouds
a painter adjusts
his timepiece


half grey
half blue
the sky


a poet shaves
his poem


       Salvador Dalí - Spring Explosive

Tuesday, 7 November 2017

beech tree

three line
the pine


2 reds
a bullfinch
& the rowan



cold day
sending my father
an email

Monday, 6 November 2017

6000 birds

some of the sky

millet blurred by
a bilberry's elegy

rain has
a habit
of starting


traveling through Fife

my head
6000 birds

the freshly cut fields
a poem
of red and yellow


all my problems
a yew tree
full of berries


blue sky

my hair
thinning on top

in the park
only the sycamores
have leaves left


Christo Coetzee. Head in Pink. 1987

Friday, 3 November 2017

aquine anonymity

yeah, yeah, yeah

‘what’s with these homies
dissing my girl’

aquine anonymity
a seahorse dries itself
on a cactus


around the castle's ruins green grass


blue sky

                                         every end of summer

staring at it

                                         the way water

a dead pigeon

                                         moves through trees


       a song thrush’s anvil

the sound of

                                 the bottle

demolition workers

                                  empty again


Salvador Dali - Seahorse

Thursday, 2 November 2017


falling leaves


the bridge &
its reflection


waste line

in the clarity
of oars

a hydrangea
looses its
fear of death


cold snap

longing for its own
summer house

the mandible’s sheaf
carrying warm straw
to a  heart bypass


Saturday, 28 October 2017


planet of the apes

the shop

the satnav sends me

where the owner was murdered

the wrong way


the sound of
colliding cars
hot coffee


cue at the station my shadow cuts in front


the last leaf
replacing politicians
w/ politicians

Monday, 23 October 2017

searching for albion

autumn breeze

                               not knowing

i find

                               what this means

a hangover

                                a rubber duck


                                in time

two bare trees

                                out of tune

an empty bottle

                                the football chant



                                  cold night

a twitterbot retweets

                                  a beggar

my haiku

                                    searches for albion


invariably odd socks


                                                                               William Blake. Albion Rose [from A Large Book of Designs]. 1793-6

Sunday, 22 October 2017

last years nasturtiums

a good day drinking whiskey


football the scar on his face


last years nasturtiums the narrator pauses for salmon


father & son
hand in hand


René Magritte. The Banquet

Wednesday, 18 October 2017

'ku 18.10.2017

a corn field’s wishbone

the vending machine
shrugs it off

in times of war
the deepening colors
of the wounds as me


second hand shirt the smell of someone else’s detergent


day after the storm
dog shit
still on the street



                             getting heavier 



                              & the rain


loch ness. october 2017

Tuesday, 17 October 2017

'ku 17.10.2017

university town stumbling upon the unemployment office


eating charcoal ice cream new moon


no day
rain has a habit
of starting


there also there russet leaves


Friday, 13 October 2017

'ku 13.10.2017

new moon
a crow bathes
in the puddle


long night
a skype call
rings out


- stoic colons appear
as things-in-themselves


the sun caught
in the river’s flow


Thursday, 12 October 2017

'ku 12.10.2017

foreign takeover
a fleck of paint
under my fingernail


freshly cut field
I give my father
the bigger slice


geese overhead
a classical radio station
moves into range


autumn clouds
geese move in and out
of formation

Remedios Varo. The Task

Wednesday, 11 October 2017

'ku 11.10.2017

autumn haze
the harbour
moves further away


heating vent
between the tenements
a bird disappears


through my breath a tulip learns to speak rainbow trout - cold day


the wood-pigeon finally sees me - autumn breeze


Victor Hugo. Mushroom. 1850

Tuesday, 10 October 2017

'ku 10.10.2017

a mountain on fire autumn mist


the dog’s mouth winter storm


wish bone nebula
an orphan chips
the honey-moon


autumn rain
the sound of my son
filling his nappy


John Cage. Dramatic fire. 1989

Monday, 9 October 2017

'ku 9.10.2017


of immigrants 

the amphibian’s eyes
moving above
a rhododendron 



on the hospital bus
not a single petal
realises the surface

on a misted window
a child’s dolphin



autumn sky
the fish tank
at the doctors


behind the monkey puzzle
the moon 
behind the clouds


Friday, 6 October 2017

'ku 6.10.2017

using my journal
as a plate -
this lemon cake
not unlike


this way too


sunflower machinery the rice fields as snowfall w/ sticky fingers mortality darns an end of summer


seascape mother’s maiden name on the surf finding a hierarchy of doom a fetus creates a boat


Esteban Vicente. Untitled. 1959

Thursday, 5 October 2017

'ku 5/10/2017

news of a shooting
thoughts wander
to greying hair


autumn light hydrangea the colour of midnight


end of the day
tar spots
on the sycamore


cherry trousers

flees narrate
the sky

a crab fills
the banks
w/ a bum note


Vincent Van Gogh. Poplar Avenue in Autumn

Tuesday, 3 October 2017

'ku 3/10/2017

beyond the cemetery walls - a dog’s squeaky toy


beneath giraffe wool surgery plays a ladybug the third act finds the ghosts of summer gone to seed

 Mark Rothko - Emerald Bay  

relative to seven triangles & a day moon I long to be somebody’s uncle from chicago

Yves Tanguy. La Grue des Sables. 1946

just above
the sound of a river
a robin’s call

Monday, 2 October 2017

from the fifth edition of 'the cherita : your storybook journal'

the ghost’s stutter

leaves to fall

beyond the river’s bend
a magpie
flies straight


willow herbs in seed

I find a new faith
in ghosts

forgotten melodies
roll out
an endless sky


From the fifth edition of the cherita : your storybook journal


Unichi Hiratsuka. Megane Bridge. 1935

Friday, 29 September 2017


autumn breeze
the coffee
still too hot


battle weary

the millionaires
of convex combinations

loan out bedpans
which produce hallucinations
of lonely dachshunds


death has left me behind - autumn dusk
Issa (own translation)


Tuesday, 26 September 2017

beech nuts and blackberries

Today we visited Linn Park. The air was mild & full of autumnal mist. I picked some beech nuts and ate them w/ blackberries. Wild grazing is possibly the most dignified way to eat.


Some 'ku from yesterday:

below the corpse
a mackerel
prays for rain


offering an oak
a hillside
herb trousers

Monday, 25 September 2017


tank gods woo
a hunchback -
tubular jesus

bruschetta idolatry
I wish upon
a turban squash

new socks
- we escape
wearing soil

Saturday, 23 September 2017


autumn equinox
the last light of summer
caught in the yew’s berries

slow dusk
the water’s surface
takes a vacation

autumn equinox
I ask a fisherman
about the salmon

the clouds 
become architecture
a dream
falls into
a big nothing

Thursday, 23 March 2017

Impulse to Knowledge

Watching the apple trees along the banks of the white cart I become a roast chicken and hang there with last years leaves and the odd rotten apple. In this I am tree, leaf, rotting sticky piss, puss bugged apple and a half a goddamn roast chicken upright ape hybrid. Chuck chuck. Oh me and those opposable thumbs.
The sperm leaves the blossom real fast. At the same time it becomes a foetus it makes a sandwich. No pickle, please. Chuck chuck. Eventually, with no condiments, I move beyond the becoming of this or that and even that. Now perched, whole heartedly, on the cog we named the ‘impulse to knowledge’.

facing the wrong way a daffodil

Jordan B Peterson. 45 minutes on a single paragraph of Nietzsche's Beyond Good & Evil