Sunday, 26 October 2014

Long Mynd

The Christians are a few yards ahead. Green track
lit through curled ferns. Heather's scent of everything,
of God entropy. Caer Caradoc: trace of dead claims;
Eretz Cymru. Yesterday he sang, Take me back to 
the Black Hills, in wavering falsetto. Inhuman folds
from before anybody said anything. Empty beech nut
shell: dead genital mouth. Low weave of branches.
Broken shortbread mushrooms. Shat-upon
fleece scraps. Weathered bowl of water trembles.
Blood touched fleece with a scraped-clean scapula.

I wanted to catch you up. You didn't want me, but
I'm forever having to remember lines. Bastard wind
sharpening this bastard boy: I have eyes that I might

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

Sunday, 12 October 2014

Bournville Parish Church

Chapel walls
are falling milk

swollen fly
shoves air about
and says "against"

Candle in red
glass sheath

Circle panes;
forever traps

Draped in
chocolate quilt
piano keeps stumm

My voice from
face down
in a pool of before

Fraying service book
joke fatefully

There roars
a gash
until it slides

Saturday, 4 October 2014

Tuesday 30th September, The Lamp Tavern/ Own Way Home


ar aeih ewer
shakes a reed

a mouthful will arc

    a brazen lung a
    hard hands' cup

Bust sums spool from fixéd mouth

Strings are hurt taut and in love

    a wooden lung a
    hollowed head anew

Tuber splits roots inkling
there to where so sheer

Rust antler stabs before anaglypta blue

so the Ought Not of musick hollers bright
as it should

    geologic roars
    popped air

    kicked wood

fingering a piano's guts
to silver

Scale was broke with
blood rich trembled pitch

blown down eye/ear holes I am
glad to be an animal with
tiny bones inside


Man/dog shrinks
in ticker stripped
with halogen
Piss streams in
shelter Steely flats
of the reservoir
Are there owl eyes
Sheet metal billows
and so poplar sings
as odd angles do