Tuesday, 23 October 2018

my father a sculpture garden

drunk again
the hum
of a fridge

the sweetness 
of a panther’s breath

moving into nothing
the statue’s symmetry

from my memory
the biggest lie


new moon
a car moves beyond
the streetlight

folding coal
the road

relationship status
the infinity
between lines

a policeman 
finds a horse


my father
a sculpture garden

the neighbours forget
to take in the washing

soaking beans
the child’s
first steps

a magpie fans its tail
towards a sunset

Wednesday, 10 October 2018

the last lion

Stroll along the White Cart. Round hoardings and boarding of the foreign commissariat. The map lists earthworks but I’m not too sure - it’s all real flat and endless. The alleyways of the commissariat. Awe. Nearly. Not too far. Ate some blackberries that fell from some ‘unknown source’. Little under ripe - but still. Stooped in calligraphy. Birds - Colitis - Lower Colon - The way water reflects light onto concrete and the barren bowed legs of a postman. Time and then some for Elliott. The tramp, me, asks for some spare change.

unripe blackberry
the last lion 
a triangle

Tuesday, 9 October 2018

cobbled torso

school shooting

early frost

i ask
do only depressed people

for an orange

kill themselves?


taking for granted


her second

the child


with two mouths


rusting hammer

in the tenement window

the space station

sun set

passes over



cobbled torso

a red landscape

lee harvey oswald

moves through metal

as a horse