Saturday, 4 January 2014

Bus note 85

Two dents in large pink head.
        Black cap passed back.
Skinny arsed teen
alights at Eye.
        Bare neon tube
        in empty frame
        of bust up sign
        above dead shop
stutters: flustered gas.
        Small boy's held stare then
my bright bloodrush viciousness.
        Cloud bunches go along over.


  1. "Bunches" briefly appeared as "punches", to the damaged eye, in the bruising and buffeting of this -- the aftermath of near asphyxiation in the psychic plume of the sputtering bust up dead shop signage.

    In brief, ow, evidently the season.

    Unsentimental, always to be called for in the hard passage.

    (Saw this through a Goya filter, for some odd or perhaps no real reason...)

  2. It wasn't until I'd read your comment that I realized how singularly lacking in Dickensian Christmas Charm this was, Tom. I'm very glad it was "cloud punches".


  3. always get your traveling

    accumulating atmosphere

    of a specific place and am

    transported into somebody

    else's skin briefly poetically