Painting

done
work

looks
back

with crashed seducer eyes
then a daub wrinkles

Some thinking part
goes charcoal dark

Mote and Beam Grid tilts

Woods are made not to exist

Rose wash veils run over

Some shape
petals open hic et nunc

fur and feather echos

Flux stutters gather

Brim splits and fails

A matted hand says yes (only just) and flexes

Step in
Step back

Step in
to the insides
Again. Step back

After hometime

A sordid pillow
with entropic halo:

it is a person
on the wipe clean chair.

Woolen monkey with plastic face and
plastic hands
unfeels for the floor.

The heat
from my sweating head:

dull evap gas all breath forever lost.

Words had
crack.

In the underskin
the motive sump trembles.

Jesuit me exits and smiles wry.

Smethwick Windmill

Light effects on social scenery:
gold the shopping unit roof
until it's not and
her gold enunciative tracksuit creases up
and wrapper gold in gutter glisters

Halflit fuckery piston sheen by Matalan

It's written all over

To her girl: "It don't mean
that you're really happy"

Heineken sunglasses are no joke
Threat steps
at the crossing: "You stop, yeah?"
(set in
-flections
on repeat) and
the Jeep gleams and shudders

I sing falsetto bluebirds over
and the skinny girl catches a rail
and doesn't fall

The Waterloo's dead
with rusting Victory weather vane
wetted to muted and weovils
twist inside
next to empty struts of the yet-to-be

Our backyard - rotting
down rhubarb tops have
a something to say
and a pile of circuitry is stupid

A back turned sky very bored of alleluias
with the Sun being tucked in once

A feeling

Turn these stones
into bread


Chocolate lime dissolves in burnt mouth

Snail eggs open in the compost heap


The wrong half's naked
as the bulb stutters off

Orange lip skirts
slug with blackest eyestems
shrinking in

Crying without suffering
a thing a name
might stick to


flash
of excruciating empathy

Hands
will not conduct
tenderness

She
looks
down

Tears
wait at lids heavy
enough for the drop