Saturday, 18 October 2014

Telling the truth


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

acid strips

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

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

I love you am peeling my calloused old heart


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


  1. wonderful piece....I like the contrast between assertiveness and elusive truth...( maybe it is not like that...:)

  2. It is, I suppose, at once touching, and passing strange, that we are able to accept the casual interspecies cruelty of the so-called natural world, and yet stop short at acknowledging that relations between the sexes of homo sapiens may at times seem at least equally fraught. The expectation of nothing but hearts and flowers all the livelong day (and of course night) was probably no more than an advert in the first place.

    Honesty, always refreshing.

  3. Thank you, Tom and Sandra.

    I've never seen a peregrine take its prey so plainly in front of me (and at work, in the heart of the city too): horrible and fascinating.

    Nothing murders the life of a relationship like sentiment, I reckon.

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