Chicago, where the rails become streets,
where the wind winds around corners to double tier trains that rain down with thunder below
cloudbursts of snow and slow traffic

Chicago, where cars and trucks stop at lights on the bridges, resting wheels on wet tarmac and men pass by wearing cagoules and flat caps: bohemian grandparents on northern fronts.

Chicago, where every building is a flat iron or a pencil windowed and widowed of safety net architecture,I look up from the window and flutter as she does, the suicide shipwreck standing atop a roof looking up and falling down, into river and rail track wakes.


If the dial-up allows it and this note finds its way through the orchestra, let me tell you this:

*You look lovely in your flower tattooed white dress.
I shall write about  you until you read about yourself and smile, the rest has
been thrown into the wind and has come to settle in the tidal flow, sit tight and see where it goes.

RE: an open letter to the sciences

                To the laws of science, physics and attraction,

it's the reaction when I wink
that I'm worried about, it's my weak link,
my loose link, a failing eye that cannot blink
in a ****, discreet, try-and-compete-with-this,
way.
In bars and upon streets is where I wish to catch the eye
of a woman walking the opposite way, on a wind
that makes her walk a little quicker than usual,
it's then, at this point, just as she passes,
that my left lid would close is a gentle flash
and I'd swoon into her memory
as, that-guy-who-gave-me-a-non-weird-completely-in-context-wink.
This­ is where you come in laws of science, physics and attraction,
I'm failing to achieve such a goal, I'm a gimmick;
they'd probably use it against me to appear the better person
in a conversation they may have without me,
help me laws.
I know you're just textbook pages stored in classroom drawers,
but you must be filled with information about casual flirtation,
maybe a how-to chapter on how to capture the eye of someone
or a section on how to practice the wink in a reflection, in a mirror,
somewhere else that isn't here.

Science. Physics. Attraction. I know my grades
in you were less than perfect, abysmal I will admit,
but I'm asking for your wisdom.
Yours,

Tim Knight
Age: Inadequate

In an arcade
a couple choose an engagement ring,
through a window they peer and grin
for this is the beginning of something new.

He, the larger of the two-
tshirt clad and cool-
stares with nose against the pane.

She, the rounder of the pair-
dressed for work but doesn’t care-
looks to her lover and smiles.

In an arcade
a couple chose their engagement ring,
through the door they came out
for that was the first domino to fall.

I carry on with this coffee
and think to the day when
I’ll be in an arcade choosing a ring.

They got dressed that morning
to go out and protest,
though whilst running
a bullet entered their back,
split their spine into shards and out spilled
blood as wine flowing from their oak made cask.

Now they lay and lie and cry silently
in a room where a man counts the corpses
and wraps them in linen,
hiding faces from families making them hidden.

Close their mouths with tissue bows
tied at the forehead for purchase and extra tread,
cover stomachs of starvation up
and say words that shouldn't be misread.

Photos of the deceased to send around the globe
from camera to probe, back down to internet villages and news room towns.

Outside the demonstration continues with howls
and flags made from sweet cotton thread
and the march continues being walked by
those with barbed wire legs.