Disposable face-masks
make excellent hammocks
for Bohemian hamsters,

perfect for them to unwind,
while practicing their music
on those little hamster flutes

So, take it easy..
shin back and smoke out
those sunny afternoons
with the haunting
scuffle of hamster-jazz..

The exercise
was " Charity"

an essay on ,"That
which we hope
to receive".

I,
half-asleep
had misunderstood,

submitted a paper
on "Blow-jobs"...

Bet you that
the jet-stream brings,
the split ends of
old hurricanes,
pensions off
their stroppy baggage,
coughing up their
weeks of rain.

Feels wrong
without the cold

without Siskins,
without Redpolls...

...no outside chance
of white-winged gulls
appearing down
the bay...

brought no bell,
or call-to-arms,
no rush of Prussian
blood to head
the ball into an
empty net, no change
in current sea levels...

no harm befell
the coppiced shoots
of brutal resolutions,
proving atheist
relationships are
worth their weight
to any fool...

and
no-one but
the very best,
would deign
to chance a
second guess
of getting into heaven

on this first day
of the year.

That we
are even here,
in this strange
existence, is
incredible enough

but of our peculiarities,

consider love...


You see,
I'll wager
love needs more...

and,
despite knowledge
to the contrary,

when our time comes,

when all
that I have shunned
and scorned, comes
home to haunt...

I will convince

myself, some part
of us endures,

that we go on,

reformed...

When waving
to passengers
on passing trains,
I have observed
that a I elicit
a more favourable
response

when I remove
the clown mask and
put my clothes back on.

Tolled
one-rolled-bone away
from sweet inconsequence

thereby, the flicker
of an exit-sign, the
grand idea of life's
unlearning flirted

hinted
hands around
the throat of fate
were ultimately mine...

and to the
suitably anesthetized,
the rubbing clean
of canvasses,
the pulling down
of blinds,
appeared enthralling...

a cobbler's thumb
of fumbled ruse,
the blueprints
to a master-plan,
a calling card that
meant no other morning
after all...

Bowled
one-rolled-bone away
from all that greatness

an acolyte
invertebrate, upended
in some milky way,

the lateness
of my dragon-chasing
thawed all rude persuasion

reanimating appetites
in dubious remains.