Saturday, 12 July 2014

A gift is difficult

Wasps dipped white in the knotweed cups and
drunk on it suspended glue slow  Remember?
Severn was near to brim  What were we then?
Still putting the scaffolding up  En famille or

House full of KRSNA consciousness (whatever
that is)  Her face astir a star painted on  Gull
at the turkey bone  Largeness with eyes for cuts

We're nearing everybody's disaster  This year's
bramble flowers being bigger and blush infected
We're not pretending

There were nuns here once that got too old

Pins and needles around eye's throat  Sweat
horror of metaphor goes and flutters  Eczema
coat put on  A boy before in park by pool of
fidgety light  Light in a bundle now cornered

How the trees do grow getting sexual again

I have your plastic woven bracelet on


  1. The past, so deep and strange.

    I'm with those nuns, but would prefer to be with those trees.

  2. Yes, the past keeps creeping up from behind and lamping me one the last few weeks.

    Nuns and great American poets are something of an endangered species now.


  3. "I have your plastic woven bracelet on"

    miraculous piece of mundane simplicity