people look so silly under the spell
of friday's grooving radio hum:
they trip and fall over miles of tiles
when gin tins leave their shoes untied;
its showtime under the ambergreen lights!

seven o'clock and motor breath
turns to head-seeking missiles, i duck
under a stop where frostbite seeks
to hide its fingers in my socks
"i'm not ready to end!"

"it hasn't yet begun!"
seven twenty and here's my bus!
a giant metal knight with wiper swords
and a two-door parting shield
... i check to see if my feet have healed

engines ruminate over their revolutions
and rumble and grumble on deaf ears
cautionary tales of last week's anteeks...
but not all roads lead to rome, fortunately,
some lead to queen's square

...at least my toes are warm now

dear you,

as i left the cinema pondering loss and trying to tie it to a real anchorable place in the world i walked past a sign that read 'elizabeth banks street' or something. i wondered when it was last given a lick of paint because it was starting to show bare metal around the writing. i forgot about it as i rounded the corner.

the edible i ate before the film grew warm weeds in my bones as i passed a couple on a bench; they'd been there 90 minutes earlier on my way to the cinema. i wondered what they'd chatted about that was worth enduring the cold for. maybe it's like that when you find the one. i thought of the girl at work i have a crush on.

i moved towards the canal and as i counted all the missing cobblestones i danced over the song i was listening to began to swell slowly in my veins. i felt my steps get lighter and wore this unbelievable grin on my face. i thought of the guy i've always wanted to be and how i felt like i was becoming him. i thought of buying a home and owning books and records and how it felt like it was all going to happen. i really felt like i was in exactly the place i was supposed to be at that moment. it was a funny contrast to loss.

my old block of flats sat on the opposite side of the canal a little further down. i slowed a bit and thought of the man i was last year and how proud i am of him. i think i'm a more spiritual man now. i've learned to become a lot more present and appreciate what makes art so beautiful. there's a lived experience reflected in every piece, you see, whether you like it or not. that's what makes art subjective; some people see things they don't want to be reminded of.

so love and growth warmed my leather-laden feet as i turned the final corner into the alleyway opposite my flat. i thought of my new socks and the places they were gonna take me just as i saw a guy hop over a car park fence with a filled bin bag. i wondered if they were his clothes in the bag and if he'd been kicked out by a partner. maybe he'd stolen something. it could be one of a million things but it's another funny contrast to really hoist the moon over my evening. i suppose gain grows from loss like a parasite.

write soon

dear you,

it'll probably take this a long long time to reach you but isn't that just the idea? nothing is consistent here - moments bend & weave so it feels like each blink takes a lifetime. yesterday a thought took four months to form and i almost used it without thinking.

i'm stretched out on the grass now & i'd love to explain how anyone meets anyone at all. is love some long blue thread bringing them together? i've seen what people do with it - sure they make it into something pretty but it isn't what it's there for.

i tried to explain a concept like us to a bumblebee but i didn't really get anywhere. i said "wouldn't you like something like a portal? you could be at the next flower before you know it." i said portal instead of a wormhole because i knew bees didn't understand physics but he buzzed off anyway. i suppose the fun might be in the looking & finding but i've been given flowers before & it sure as hell meant more than picking one myself. maybe he was just happy with what he'd already found.

now i see magpies everywhere but they can't all be you right? i've always thought they were but maybe i'm just too ******* in my long blue thread. i suppose that's human though - i've just always valued the idea of tying something tangible to a concept that isn't really bound by atoms. the idea that this is all meant to be, y'know?

if you look hard enough you'll see them everywhere. sometimes all it takes is one & the thought that everything has to mean something. that's it though - i guess if it were real then you'd be here by now. maybe if you wait long enough you'll miss your chance. maybe if i look long enough a magpie is just a magpie.

p.s.

on the walk here i crossed a bridge - it wasn't celestial or anything but it was high enough off the ground to wonder if i stepped off how much of a joke i could get out my mouth before i hit the clouds. i couldn't really shake that feeling of bending & weaving after that. funny isn't it.

write soon

reflection spits
off the road
like venom

(all this happened
under slurred
red murmur        )

i think of your back

& mine, like the in
                              side
ofaspoon

oh yours!

not quite so concave
                             but
a soft&flexing blade

regaled with silver.

seconds drag; their limbs
line the hallways while we sleep:
yesterday's awake

listen,                 ###
listen     to the slow
    g  ro   w i  n g
cacophony,the whip
-pppping crescendo
& come alive in it.
roll up(so tidally)
&rave like the brea
-king waves. break
your spine on the
rockiness & learn
to swim once more,
learn to ebb& learn
to flow, to warp as
she does &    hold
fast    as she has.

i do not mind the
wind,  it is making
waves & i will float.
i do not mind, carry
tunes of hummmmm
-ing birds to live for,
hummingbirds to sea.