Monday, 2 April 2018

All the heat gone

Frayed tarmac in 4pm February sun and
furtive moss clusters be gone

neon tube hiss           
              shrugged off antennae

Now all the oddbod crocus fingers creak
a yellow stepladder floats from his big arm

So bird lime at the edges of the wired glass
            history cakes  
   and blisters and 
                       half hid 
        stains on the waterbed too

No magic vestiges
                      even in felt tip flowers and leaves

                Quiet is an hour or so hung up for afters
before hometime hands say


  1. Sizzles and sparks - thanks WB.

  2. Top drawer stuff, as we like to say around the wardrobe dept.

    I believe I have those same oddbod fingers meself. Had I even the brief fling the crocus shall now enjoy... out-of-body bliss!

    (As you know, in blogging we find any/all things of interest insofar as they relate to US.)

  3. Thank you, Jonathan and Tom.

    An all too brief fling this year. The flowers took one peak and dipped back down again.