Wednesday, 14 October 2015



So the father and baby room
wax face boy-man
danaiad typanum skin
shoots up and exits with his fat friend
down to Queen's Market where
the air rifles are all sat up nice
and what a smashed nox glass smile


The sea wall is the wall

Lupine gull whiteeyes up
my cheap cheese sarnie

Brassneck calls above
lift dry heraldic breast

Fine cream throat is tense
till the salted us tongue chant

they're letting the slow breeze lift them
then turning
to puncture
and through
in illegal sodality


He walks past with smudge moustaches
his Sindhi cap
with silver stitches

What is this place here

ident tremors

prior tender embroidery

Everybody's got a few paper cuts it shows


The radio tower is made up of squares
the edges of which are oxidised

joke flowers

Think of the sea
being empty of expectations: a picture
or not

Boy turns his wind-up gun and fires

Mum calls him a little cunt and drags
her menthol till it's at the tip

Friday, 2 October 2015

The Green

3 drunks we
in remnant heat

arrangement bench

say story time
is sung blown glass

piss wet
dust stretches

shady picturing
and 4 worn leaves
lift up defeated
lift up your downy head