on line two-there is
a caller?!hey?!
what would you do
if you were attacked by
a big dog, lily-well,i would run
i suposse..

though sometimes there is
no where to run..
i don´t know-something
unexpected-offer love and
friendship
a kiss-and what is your
favourite poem..?

i don´t really have one
the next or the last
walter de la mare..
or when confronted by
a predator-punch it on
the nose..prey for divine
intervention..

ii

can you make up something
now?

-i don´t know-there is
a little bird that bothers me
white wings perhaps a portend
of death-twigs shiver..
the sky howling whence
it has been-seeing through my
window-what may it be..
through one eye and frozen expression
he considers ..is it past future
or now, i don´t know..

iii

thanks, bye!..o good luck!
(i don´t believe in luck-)
my mum went to school with you
now i am ancient..

and sometimes a child..
between assorted hex
between a twix at four
and no hell..

you know that no-how
hiker-death in the eye
all roads lead
a lost log blues..

i

time..i am told we are
opening up the lines
not lying in a hot bath

with a bottle of jack
but the first caller-
we are through..

to the prettiest star!
caw..!
i have a memory-

we lived in a donkey hut
above the bay
sunset and ferry

warm retsina and
musicians and strippers
the village hummed

chilled bums-
panic in detroit
is that you, crow?!

lily,i can read your mind..did you take my underwear..?!
off the line-
click..

a lad insane..
(another poem from me)
for crow..

ii

for whose heart
(as greedy as the guiri)
for my love,
alas, can never be..

i am to myself-first!
(the wing to the sky)
for all that thirst
for reason, why

to they that share
bread and wine
to them that dare
be a future time..

there we are, stevie howling
like how can we be to the setting
son and a butterfly collector..

kidnap really, and put in a jar
so lovely dust falls away
in bitter recollection..

your tuned to lily(guest dj)..!
a dance of flailing true
from the beautiful 52s´..?!

after this voyeuristic lament
another beauty
we are all quite sane..

we have become
i will read an old one-
there is no hell..

ii

there is no hell
so we made one
such is man..

desparate dan
on a jag of boredom..
come, little soldier

eat up hamburger
mainstream stars
lonely land..

iii

as the keys fade into
thunder i have been told
to press a button..

(a word from our sponsers)
eat this ****
youll be alright-lily laughs..

a song to dead genius
nothing more sad
hearts breaking..

iv

(a reluctant admiration
always the sun
you could see we english

we were in our underpants
i thought that said alot
i was down the far end

with the naked hairy germans
in pain no shade
in the sun..)

v

eclectic can be rather
a pretention
but i thought we might go

classical-here is the man
nocturne on high
chopin..enjoy..

vi

back again-i read somewhere
he composed from his death bed
in them i find faith and love

and also a boy called johnny-
your listing to lily-submission..
you got real pretty teeth baby-

or so i heard before
the computer..to the leaving
of liverpool

the age of sail..
the clipper ship in full sail
*** ****** and the lash

as churchill once said
in a speech..now we have a break
for news traffic and weather

another..

i

EVERY WRITE IS A BRAND
new day-except without the caps
which is ok

i never know what i want
to say
lily eats her toast..

outside the thorn tresspass
she lost in reverie
slips her knight gown

and a glimse of her breast
very nice
and wraps her self warm again..

ii

like eve and marmite
sweet genesis..
the king will come

o
no, i never know what to say
like the stars
but usually  mix

the surreal with the mundane
myth not usually ****
but they exist

iii

books and music..
encroaches the thistle
she opens an epistle-

listen to this?!
the radio station wants me
to guest dj..?!

mm..mmm...mmmmm.
mmm,...mmmmmm...
m-no mention of money..

just select a list of your
favorite mmmmm..
and some relevant commentary..

read some of your poetry..
mm..mm..mm
as you will-yours in perpertuity,

steve..
ps..no effing swearing..lol..
what do you think..?

iv

when-tomorrow!?
that´s tomorrow!!
not much prep..

i´ll get ****** and be
spontaneous-never let me
down yet..

what is it-no publicity
is bad publicity..?!
mmmm..

i

lily looks up from a page
why do i feel guilt
when i have done nothing..

what is she reading?
in patagonia-
because you are..

by bruce chatwin-
like winnie the poo
and ******

ii

when they pull out
your finger nails your to say ow
not be clever..

witches were clever
or are..
freedom a little shack

by the ocean..
dinosaurs and great open spaces
sailing the albatross..

iii

a certain penguin with
comical name
send out the a team

they make a glittering home
and the rest follow..
they are monogamous

iv

until death..
both raise the chick
in turn

they are generous
they share
there is no blame..

generosity in a democracy
is important lily
says..

not only did we have our daily
milk but free school dinners
too-

(an optional..)
maybe it is the same today
somehow i don´t know..

now, is a strange concoction
of future and nostalgia
lily, i hear the contented suction

of straws from chilled milk
bottles which blue **** had pecked
and left jagged-

free milk provided by the state
which the children unfortunate
to go without breakfast enjoyed and

had two-which of course would
bankrupt the country today..
what with the price of state of the art jet

fighters..and to make resolutions
which is also tough-given up so many avenues
of pleasure already..