Cupboard doors open and slam in a rush of morning departures. Tins of beans and packets of pasta checked for use by dates end up piled up on the table. Toothpaste faces run in clutching new soap and that unopened toiletry to add their finds.

Pat on heads. Loading and quick check on calendar. Yrs 2 to 6 9am St. Matthew's

the products
of field's and labour
day's of equality

Rushing around to get home in the dark. Central heating clicked into the Internet of Things. Instant pictures of children's day. Instant food on the table. Entertainment on demand pumps out donate now message from Shelter.

cardboard bedsheets
night's of equality

distant water rides rocks twists a sway from sky
early mist covers a way leaves drip some of it's wet
wait, Sun's heat will appear chasing water home

stinking rag piles
human effluent
with no
sewer to
sanitise.

I am the purge.
pocket of
gasoline
a spark in
the night.

screams call the victory
of
sweet vapours
over
living ****.

I breathe it in,
off my fingers,
as I leave.

lathe and plaster walls
divide a derelict

rooms part at doors,
holes
kicked through
and, unglazed frames.
light lingers on fragments
of lyric and latex.

rats scramble away
from nests;
domesticity.
after
bank's dead hand
slapped us
outta the place.

painted bright as a poppy drops
on water in winter armour

endeared with pins through daring
words emotives that would fly

scramble. alert.
stand down

flutter arrested
attested to tempt;
at rest the
compression lump

chunks of red muscle lie against
wanton parting pout born by eyes.
there is no offer.

petals drop as remembrance
of a bi-partisan battle. disorder
beaten by bravehearts

that did not fall but threw themselves
on into slurry of sharp parts
slowly giving to drops of familial blood

wave

throws spume

lifted high

painting pebbles

white

money slides
across accounts of
intercontinental banks

so taxing on people
this game of cups

through a tiny crack a whole epoch
was revealed. lines more than words
marked living that had past into rock

up close the lives could be seen.
from afar the time scene.

dig in a layer to learn which devoured
and which was consumed. tiny stone
ghost. hieroglyphs to knowing eyes.

is the minutia the story or is it the sweep
of the Terra twisted by it's force to reveal:
secrets.

these layered lines specks of alphabet dust or construct.

a hand raised to cut out some of the glare. still only see glare. worry stalked my thoughts while hunger rattled on my ribs. Time being beaten out by the slap of tattered sail against the broken limb that should be stout skywards not right angled into the .... glare.

i am a fair sailor on a regular day. today i am a burnt out wreck foolishly adrift after capsize. ok foolhardy but who would not wish to be in the blue on such a day. a day 5 or 6 ago on a whim and gentle wind to gather me into nature. She has done with me now and I waft away into sleep.

There I am carried away from desperate thirst and pained imagined goodbyes to a place that seems cool and if not dark it is at least bare of violent light. I blink. I did, it hurt. All is grey apart from land-born angels pointing home.

flat grey sky
is hiding seagulls
with rain on wings

mass .
that smack in the face
with a brick.

subjective accident
in a bubble

- God -
particles interact in a huge pool of
energy

physical
creative
sensitive

as input
-

makes weight
as a wave
dances in winds

singular and
'sin everywhere
where energy
flows

God cannot
fast or
fatten
else
the bubble bursts
and the brick
passes through
you.

the window
smashes into uncountable
nothings

once rocks .
now weathered
stones inclined
by wind.
something
devout
in that vane
stuck
gold
and facing
forever
south

thouest ****
my promised quince
widely spread

truly a sky
made of sly seabirds
precipitations

optical sky
blue is an illusion
grey an effect

spun again
why the grey veil
carousel

crescent moon
scythes from reality
rounded sleep

bird carcass
headless
a trophy someplace

risen by tracing
a relief of you in silk
Venus razes dawn

pebble
alone on path
shingle

tree shadow
stretches over sundial
time stops

sparrow hops
onto fence
with broken gate

birds on roof
scream some instruction
flight club

Sun lazy roll
from lower limits
not so high

hurrying to perch
in fast fading daylight
thrush hour

seagull head
swivels around on van
parking warden

cars queue
in both directions
pedestrians cross

what means this

raised hand

a fist



figure me not

i see hope

aloft

(but)

in that salute

jut square

in air



is threat, malice

violent

prejudice



halting fear and

lower that hand

take mine in yours

no weapons

in our wars

common senses once taught
flat Earth accepted thought

possibility of straight line
coming back to then define
circular transit
was deceit
heresy
lunacy

perception forced was destroyed
by a sailor royally deployed
to exploit sea trade
of dragons afraid
some returned
facts earned
world
round

followed many tribulations
persecution in inquisitions
round and round
the seat of heaven
Earth then Sun
Universe
begun
relative
subjective

in any case your senses
are instructing pensé
according to rules
that time makes fools
so (h+H)awking
ideas not
sound
Universe is flat
not round

dragged hedge marks
outline of decades
old scratching

soil marks parallel
and perpendicular
are not hare tracks
and are hare tracks

so subject to vaguery
of climate and fashion
a hedge makes
near squares
from afar

closer it is the
edge of the world.
fledglings chance
on dragons
and cubs
smell territory
on the wind

hit hard switch back
metal hidden in
flesh.

hooked.

the rush up
into another world.
the
slow gag .

tears never
dissolve
enough oxygen

hooks hang from me
catching stares
on so normal streets

hooks cut from
lines baited with
bits of dead lovers

I carry on. rust
marked aware
of your barbs

rise and fall under feathers warm exhales.

you are added to the invisible.

consequence nothing remains of details

that inflated the anger made hate risible.


as I lie limboed across the shared vapours

of moments past part making the next me.

so irrelevant now, flow of dark humors,

that we buoyed into and ground out to free


that dancing dream exalted by the hair

floating like gossamer without me there

handfuls of dust dry
before deity
before bless
breathes life
into mud

shank
-meat
meets
means-

like
a hammer
between head
and it's
handle
is
thought
between the Force
and it's finesse.

if there is nothing
between divinity
and dirt .

there is you.

no one. no Force.

Turning to Uncle Dai I wanted to speak
but

Motes flew sticking to his hat, greasy
and soot blackened. Third generation
drivers hat made from good dirt.

Embers, hot, stole the air from lungs.
They orange stars underfoot so
surely had the tunnel transported
us to the Southern hemisphere.

Steam and boiling water releasing
valves, driving pistons after clanging
gates. Ruled over all and any
utterance
until

That single silence born on the
flash of ivory in the fireman's
face. Son of the driver. To
I playing role of grandson
to follow
and

Dai's dar something in
the smoke.

he muttered and stuttered
words all a clutter

by his side the prize
of his eyes

finally got round
to "I do"

thread hangs dewy bright
oxidized aluminium contrasts
grey glassy grey

crumpled in doorway a song
through whiskers licked
yellow and smoke flecked
black ash.

notes
float
coats the space
between a boy
silver bits
(remnants of magic cards move
moving Mother)
from pocket to pocket

"silver linings, eh "

scaffolding reached a little higher
and somehow mucus trails
had a musical movement

nothingness from Khaos:
us.
far-reaching apes
throwing complex
machines
at rocks.
Kosmos laughs.

the trees do not stop

wind without rhythm

knocks out a beat

timing only that

moment

when coincidence

kicks

branch

into

branch

perhaps four seasons have passed
since we kissed so very happily

bitter sweet latex
kept pretext
that my hurt
it will divert
truth is
1st contact
made contract
writ n white ink
on blanched skin

caught in my throat
between a grab for
air and a wail.

is leftover, you.

easy panic runs
me . please hold me here.
This moment of
pain.

just here I can understand
letting go and holding on.

to breath and then weep
or weep and never breathe
again.

past where ***** lie
beside christian soldier
whose older and bolder
panhandling shames guy.

eyes lift from dirt to seat.
overflow shame is then
crammed in a telecoms pen.
salvations' hat sits complicit

with our gaze raised upto
other responsible 'sort'
whom donations taught
to be our virtue.

fibres line up:make rope
they cross for cloth
tall sheds:weave of rope
into a net
knitted holes
some much in
the in-between

skins are thinner
than ideology

bones cannot
bare hate

eyes cannot
un-see

nothing corporeal
can fight fear

that war is lost

Loop one or loop all.

standing in the crowd
of the heads bowed

traffic on roads
on pavement a
repeat of beats
and neat lines

another another
all the same
suicidally lame

sick of the roll
and fume
of humdrum

I roll down
alleys and
by ways to
sea shore

a hush a scree
of sea over shingle
waves roll in single
one after the other
undoing bothers

a lulling repeat
of sky; breath
and heartbeat

more of the same
to lighten mundane

falling grace destroys
May eyes

November's thrill
of cold nights
made warm by
coupling
Is
distant view
past April
fawning. As I failed
while rampant sap
slamming into buds
forcing tender tips
into still harsh
winds.

my eyes shut tight
coward's that feared
tears made sharp, as
ice, would slice
your beauty from
perception.

single sensed you are not.

blossoms scent carried you away.
Flush of palest green
became a tender pastel of
pinks with deep set dark
honey centres.

They fell in May. I gathered and
as fool grabbed handfuls to fling
in air commanding they stay there.
again.

you. gravid. new grace. Swelled
rosy cheeked preparing to fall.

daring to be
darling
those sashaying
buds of May

tempt me nearer
dearest
I am looking
for your flower

I will race
when your petals part
and there in your heart
a dance

a run of light chases birds in the sky
feathers fledged in auburn tree
flee

the heat of olive green spaces
above red dirt lures them home
from

home still baring berries and
scurry of life heads up counting
dots in front of
porch lights

now still the doubt of the press
from expectant crowd. chance
on sure steps to march one
direct to the crux of now

serendipity

door opens to the face

red traffic lights ...
in rear view mirror

bits rip into place
hit and click like
flickers of old film

gate flops
scene
gate open
scene

whirr
end of film

slapslapslapslapslap

gate strobes lit wall
spits white light and
hiss

Zen.

Mind zips to picks of times
spat black bitter to crack
wide the corral for Id

white noise

shattered reality confetti
uncertainty into notion
of solid silence

there are no voices or
punch points

filmic . ego watches
the flashes as if asleep

disappearing me

into grey veil carrying birds

inland to roost

that move. response to
my eyes kissing you
across the room

tables long hurdles
legs ached to leap
to shrink distance

noise. I read your
lips wetting mine
in concert. blush

cheeks reddened
and turn fast
toward blue
EXIT

possible that the rock on rails
will express me from a fail
intimate wants satisfied
or is to mistake I ride

hold on close
see me through
misty eyes

memories flood to wash away
just what I did to you today
taken in taken for a ride
ingrate you stood beside

hold on close
see me through
misty eyes

rivulets run and clear the pane
on that platform you remain
train pulls the wheels slide
not ashamed I lied

hold on close
see me through
misty eyes

analgesia amnesia antidote
to last night
stuck in throat

tattered pride resides
in your eyes
lost to me

vestments of vanity varnished
in sacrificed blood
now chemically numb

coming round to LED
light and message beep
reality of the deceipt

washed over by glancing
clouds destroying
themselves

a slow tipping of one
place into another

me. a stop in the way.

within lost temperance
gloated at the soak being
soaked

joyless **** but sure captain
took to the bilge pumps
and purged.

water splashing off clammy
surface layered stale from
leaked toxins shut tight
under the run from
sky
to sea.

what did not stick, or
was imbibed
pooled around lifting
an oily sheen from the
ground.

imagining the dirt as blame
the breadth of broken
sky spoke
boozed baptism

wretch