clipping a trail
  through the un-mown grasses of prehistory
i am reduced and nuded 
  by the buoyant vat   of sky baby blue

the grasses seed the heels of my work clogs
spiking sensory jabs through my socks
      a shy petting of pain

with the prow of my stride
  tiny residents vault scut and flutter
neatly evading   un panicked

radiating wet heat raises to my waist
i stop my destructive wading
i am slit, vulnerable and fed
i am primitive and free
i have membership
my uniform   banished

i take in a humid breath

about face
       and the illusions are switched
the buildings icon dominates
       and draws my responsibility
i can smile at the wash of life
       and reinstate myself in paid labour

the cat inhabits the kitchen chair
  glibly being   a warm and spread pat
as my seat is taken      i am stood
  weight shifting   between pained legs
    taking in my breakfast   like medicine
chumming it down
  addressing none of its flavours or ‘mouthfeel’

a man passes the window
uncreased  in a deceased business suit
yet   bunched into himself under a brolly

it's not raining
      but   it was  most-likely  forecast on his cellphone

strange human behaviour…

i note my own
and remove the somnolent cat
to take my seat at the table

sometimes-(sometimes);
      i love you on the lips
moon garden
            paradise hills and november
and it's temple
  template of our own world of wild tales .. sometimes
sometimes twine
   sometimes silent running   sometimes engine purl
              under our dark star
     the wind rises ; blood and black lace
       the pace of our isle
              raw and in keeping
sometimes the lighthouse taps
blinking metronome and we use habits of coherence
and practicality and partnership

in some dark corners
alternatives
on another earth
seats an uninvited guest
viewing
(i feel.. sometimes)

traffic trodden crab apples
                            and choke cherries
                 sluice the sidewalk
not one wasp observed

the wasps this year are found
not around    human food or trash cans
( sugar drunk, bat angry or absurd )

this year they thrive around cut grass
and chippings from outdoor furniture finishing

with this appetite
what are they prepping for ?

standing pin    with military tension
           a dead suit
torted stance in the mirror solvent
commandeering a flect stare
      more punish than my double could lance me

                                                     - salute

cold breeze
the ticking heat off a parked car
has summer resigned ?