sit down; Mexican standoff
side saddle head cocked
readily shot-stare asunder
to paper/pen & the
grinning wince.

employment; where are you
now? You, in current state
gaseous coagulation, you
neither “in the mix” or
ahead.

bullet point; list thoughts
& aspirations, where you
thought you ought to
wish you were here!ing
and not.

T&C; going forward agree
to meet the anticipated
expectations as if you
wore that crown to say
"you own you".

handshake; the formality
contracts its bindings,
and the paper witness
writ as statement that
we will

                 do this again sometime.

peeled back eyelids
splay venous binding;
snake skin exoskeleton
though not brittle but
woven like rope
stretches its casket,

though tenuous, its
compound dimples
gaze as pupils not
sure where the
sun is meant
to be

I leave
a jilted shell -
afterbirth horror! -
as forgone lifebearer
so that by contract,
unspoilt to be ridden,

a progeny delights
in its own delicacy.

Sunflower cereal;
trickled clumps
cast into demi-
dune sacrificial,
China region
size cup cusp,
awaiting
the
cantankerous
gulps of pearl
globules seeped
through crinkle
cut skin petals
to sounds like
wet paper pulp
mulch peeling
in a bake sizzle.

got a pink bulb
suckered in mouth—
spit it out. dribble
gobstopper sun,
pause motion to
explosive creation
cake the surface
rubber dumb, POP!

sharp tap like a
snare bubble
vacuum record
in recycling bin
you had it made
su-per-ma-ssive
try again a same
chum the chew
begin renew
anew anew review

it’s a dream
under cities’
block bricks
a small house
like canvas
squats cut out,
array of colour
not black
or grey, or white,
is tangerines
and strawberries
paper works,
also a ribbon
picket fence
take a stick to
beat of a ribcage
diagnose blame
too memorable
no serious future
says this dream
it’s a lucid one.

Building contrasts
between the holes
shaped by fists
through wall cracks
to finger holes
in my knitted jumper-

I feel hole-punched by
layers and sediments,
each blend of fibre
becomes microscopic
to a solid form, or
a strangled kite:

Do you know how
a kite flies without
breath? It makes
sail in the earth,
depths in oceans,
drowns in vacuums.

We own a pond;
mottled bluebottle,
flecked in freckles
when the sunlight
skims the surface
between the moss.

I dip a finger inside
and stir. A nebula
swills, swirling like
a whisk of spilt oil
from a water spot
sometimes found
underneath a car.

My fist plunges in,
embalming a gulp;
moss bandages
around the orb that,
withdrawing in drips,
I see a new world
set alight upon it.