Wednesday, 30 October 2013

A Walk: October 17th, Feast Day of St Richard Gwyn

In Llantysilio Church, Ps 111:

He has shown his people the power
of his works giving them the land
of other people.

"...the land of other people."


rust      hill's edge
          with 7 idiot trees

Barber's Hill where they hung the barber
who throttled the barber's wife. Still,

here the bracken shouts, "Prehistory!"


oxide red   

the first rust


The Dee's a silver will and yammering.


Valle Crucis

horsefly cloud

dead trace

corner music


Llangollen Mary had a little lamb
but Mary Rhyme was older. Still,

path down is conker strewn
glisten where
the shabby leaves


human falls: delicate
sky mirror just up
from ferment


Stately rapist mallard drakes
go closer to the weir.


The clocks askew


This many crows are broke charcoal
clattering on rain thick clumps of grass.


You'd learn the thing but

Come down again
to sweet detritus riverside

Saturday, 26 October 2013

Bus note 77

        5a to Wrecsam.
Dandy in sour uric cloud
with worn out violet scarf.
        Us two perched
        on swung down seats
        before him,
his white long baby hair
testifying. Quiet.
        I clutch yellow bar
        and lean
        head forward
with eyes blurred
and stung. Done in.
        Loop of Station Rd
        almost has me over
        at Rhiwabon.

Saturday, 19 October 2013

Bus note 76

The stops on Dudley Road
by Summerfield Park:
        Older boys ride
        gondola swings
then the ballet over baby fences.
        One bikes across and harries
        the electric wheelchair kid
(soon gone, mind).
        Fucked up halal butchers van
        coughs smoke that shadows face
of thin frantic girl
who swigs her Nutrament
then hunts for a fag
swearing wired-eyed.
        Read pavement flecks
as Horse chestnuts
cut Park in half.  

Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Heavenly Food

Fat dark fly meanders unfelt on dogtooth check lapel
of silverbearded wary auburn man: a territory. Silver
cup of blood held out. Body shakes; a moment. Hands
palm up as if on the beg. My body. Everybody
in a line going back to where my eyes don't go.

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Bus note 75

Pink polka dots
on soft blue cotton top.
        About twenty and
        thin as anything.
Broke pieces of laugh
and snatched glances.
        From Moseley
        to St George's
where her mother
cups her elbows
        in grey hands
        pressing her
outside into warm air.

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

Portrait 10

            human   water    falls

             a thinnish mouth

             hands in pockets
                for solitary kickabout

    Old Whiteheaded Villan

                 Autumn chittering

    blackened twig garland

                out the back

             vowel music

                Old Age's a bastard
                                      but still
              on scuffed up ball

Saturday, 5 October 2013

Bus note 74

Pulls a sycamore leaf from a tree
and rubs his hands with it
        then stabs
        at pictured fuckers
and goes raging up
Edgbaston Road
        as our bus necks crane
        amused or afraid
till the roundabout
and the dead electric menorah
waiting on working wires.