Saturday, 18 October 2014

Telling the truth

1.

Autumn stinks

How do we say love/ here/ you
with the new russet scene about?

Think. Give them
what they think
they want. Think

Things I wouldn't say I say
since the boxed will isn't working

Rain taps sequences and
shoes soft as conscience curl

At work I listened to each clapping

You want both lights on and
I want one of them off

Monsters we
with big communicating heads

Querying
acid strips

Desire's
particulars, my
failures sparkle:
diamond flakes

Maybe some day
an attic with air
in inches and
fruit flies heaving
dot hearts
at sticky windows

Being me
I would like
to have you
culpable

With some elegance
we set our distances and
objects show up sharp

I love you am peeling my calloused old heart


2.

Peregrine claws
the pigeon down
to the patch at the back
then the crows are on him
with block cacophony

The grass is damp

Leaves on the ground pattern up

She said the other night, "You're superstitious really"

I cough up a lump of ghost
and go back in




Sunday, 12 October 2014

Bournville Parish Church

Chapel walls
are falling milk

swollen fly
shoves air about
and says "against"

Candle in red
glass sheath

Circle panes;
forever traps

Draped in
chocolate quilt
piano keeps stumm

My voice from
face down
in a pool of before

Fraying service book
opens
joke fatefully

There roars
a gash
smile
until it slides

Saturday, 4 October 2014

Tuesday 30th September, The Lamp Tavern/ Own Way Home

1.

ar aeih ewer
shakes a reed

a mouthful will arc

    a brazen lung a
    hard hands' cup

Bust sums spool from fixéd mouth

Strings are hurt taut and in love

    a wooden lung a
    hollowed head anew

Tuber splits roots inkling
there to where so sheer

Rust antler stabs before anaglypta blue

so the Ought Not of musick hollers bright
as it should

    geologic roars
    popped air

    kicked wood

fingering a piano's guts
to silver

Scale was broke with
blood rich trembled pitch

blown down eye/ear holes I am
glad to be an animal with
tiny bones inside


2.

Man/dog shrinks
in ticker stripped
with halogen
Piss streams in
shelter Steely flats
of the reservoir
Are there owl eyes
Sheet metal billows
and so poplar sings
as odd angles do
 

Monday, 29 September 2014

Painting

done
work

looks
back

with crashed seducer eyes
then a daub wrinkles

Some thinking part
goes charcoal dark

Mote and Beam Grid tilts

Woods are made not to exist

Rose wash veils run over

Some shape
petals open hic et nunc

fur and feather echos

Flux stutters gather

Brim splits and fails

A matted hand says yes (only just) and flexes

Step in
Step back

Step in
to the insides
Again. Step back




Saturday, 20 September 2014

After hometime

A sordid pillow
with entropic halo:

it is a person
on the wipe clean chair.

Woolen monkey with plastic face and
plastic hands
unfeels for the floor.

The heat
from my sweating head:

dull evap gas all breath forever lost.

Words had
crack.

In the underskin
the motive sump trembles.

Jesuit me exits and smiles wry.

Saturday, 13 September 2014

Smethwick Windmill

Light effects on social scenery:
gold the shopping unit roof
until it's not and
her gold enunciative tracksuit creases up
and wrapper gold in gutter glisters

Halflit fuckery piston sheen by Matalan

It's written all over

To her girl: "It don't mean
that you're really happy"

Heineken sunglasses are no joke
Threat steps
at the crossing: "You stop, yeah?"
(set in
-flections
on repeat) and
the Jeep gleams and shudders

I sing falsetto bluebirds over
and the skinny girl catches a rail
and doesn't fall

The Waterloo's dead
with rusting Victory weather vane
wetted to muted and weovils
twist inside
next to empty struts of the yet-to-be

Our backyard - rotting
down rhubarb tops have
a something to say
and a pile of circuitry is stupid

A back turned sky very bored of alleluias
with the Sun being tucked in once

Sunday, 7 September 2014

A feeling


Turn these stones
into bread


Chocolate lime dissolves in burnt mouth

Snail eggs open in the compost heap


The wrong half's naked
as the bulb stutters off

Orange lip skirts
slug with blackest eyestems
shrinking in

Crying without suffering
a thing a name
might stick to


flash
of excruciating empathy

Hands
will not conduct
tenderness

She
looks
down

Tears
wait at lids heavy
enough for the drop