A weather report

Wanting old naivetes till the ankle folds

                                          one foot sideways       

a given fuck    flat and quietish

 

Rotting fish gas would shimmer

                        over pavement heat

 

By the Coop

the skin on the back of his head

thumbprint peels as mine was

     an empty paper cup wetted by half-arsed rain

 

What glisters in eye’s milk but

                  splinters of non-

 

Today: temperate me.

Fingers equal digits.

Civil pile on of vertebrae

by crenelated church skirt

Scenic Painting

Dour is Sun like mush

She leads she angles    city between beeches

hollyhocks   

defo brightness      blueness

A tongue floats and sleeps so

silver vocifer     stood out breath

Home again and          arc of sleep

Ibrik

Glass with a fingerprint thickening

It’s bright outside but dark in here

He’s making coffee in a saucepan

Belches, “pardon” and dead machines

Are everywhere

Anybody's Guess

Cycling the incline and round to the bridge
the girl looked back to town where blocks rise.
Old dog smiled wide pisshead gave joke cheers like friend.

Valerian red and memory red.

Hairs on his arm went up after
some way out.

Air gripped by Sun.
Black cast iron
upturned smile.

Organise unfixed fears.
Ignore boring ghosts.

The water showed but a not yet nothing stillness.

How do you
think it ends?

23/04/20

Rolfe Bridge forgetmenots small and some pink

Rain swallowed by the New Main Line

Angler cluster wires out

Heron with prophetic beard goes over

I missed Cemetery Road had to

circle back

past the church

And then the empty new houses and

empty new houses

The road’s elevation

Everything other than here

Revival

On a barge in the dark the temporary vicar directs prayers

invented fervours

arch parole in egg light

THE SHIVERS says Jesus is giving the shakes

I don't feel a thing
but want to be in it

Outside the cold hasn't come so
the obscene green leaves creak

A broken panel above
the worn blue nylon
through to yellowed gloss

040120

Your limp
at angles

Pavement writ
with audio tape

He makes the crayons
move a certain way

There is no rain
but looks like rain

Her lips
a sugar crust

What would you say
if you said it?

The model shop contracts

The barber looks at his hands
and you look up
to eye the nothing much