Monday, 29 June 2020


for nowt
the moon and a sandwich
in the backpack

late summer flowers
a crack appears
in the pencil

stopping to pick hops
your hands become the ipa
from three summers ago

a fisherman waiting for the train

dying moths
covering the linoleum
pencil shavings

your passport photo fading snapdragons

a flock of geese pass over lassila allotments for a moment all the gardeners stop and look then silently they agree to work a little longer and harder this evening

Sunday, 21 June 2020

monkeys ain't shit birds 4ever

I keep having this dream where my glasses break and I put them back together. And the mood of this whole dream is that time is moving very slowly independent of my tasks and it all loops over and over. Ok. When I wake someone has always left a note beside the bed and it reads -  monkeys ain't shit birds 4ever.

Saturday, 20 June 2020


Aaaaahhh. That’s no way to talk to a pear.
Aaaaaahhh. That’s no way to talk to me either.
Aaaaaahhh. That’s no way to talk. 
Aaaaaahhh. That’s no way to bicycle.  
Aaaaahhh. That’s no way.