Four Dwellings

Park's slope pale
with dandelion seed

A flecked grey blanket shapes

Such a bleach wet sun
seeps vex light

Harrow out all from shade

A busted shrunk bike puce
and disarranged

A good wait till
the apple blooms
as blown skunk clouds

Underneath the finger tubers creak

Clent thickening

Rain Markers

        wet   GREEN

    WHITE   small   stars

        RED   echo   heads

            wet   GREEN

     spindles in pieces
              and caught breath coda

    The secret insects clackit along

        Cover all dust turns to skin   
    with patched light receding or folded up

      You think you feel    O  I

           this pulse slurred la la la
                       so much for
 
    GREEN   WHITE   ex    stretches

Short order

Emptied sheep trucks move out dulled steel
the numbers upping on Pershore Road

Odour of end odour

Fear with heat curtains
and faecal whistle home

Fungal pocks stud
linen left out
on a wayward line

A one heart smeared      shown

Indefinite

     They do make a work
            out of the stopping short

  Us aspirants under shiftless Sun

               Off and on then fallow

  Tenderly, a hurt soon blooms
          the delicate cream bell flowers sewn

                   And the wreaths
             and the wheelchair circuits

                                   muscle ardour

      Piano overstrung gone wrong

         Sugar, enervate
                         the hands the fingers

         We will make
         what weighs
         hardly a thing

Winter's leaving

Rain on the burner ashes
on petrol traces till
a bleating o-mouth Sun
a spare hedge lonely for

Memory of sheep fear vapours
with a stained work coat
and tempo fag

A dry bad painted wall with flies
behind posh boys out from Edward Rex

Our eyes are becoming too on steady
dry itches from prescript dream tedium
and I wear sticky glasses now

langsam    langsam    four four
     till it's curtains again

Through Warley Woods

Bent near naked
split oak utters

and the Wood isn't anybody's
secret anymore

Insects cluck from dead floored branches

thick grass in indifferent waves
soft green inhuman needles

Curled up beast sleep buds
pierce low slung air

Wild garlic is coming
until there are delicate wet stars

whiter than
blindness
or ideal teeth

ramshackle sing song       here and there

stickiness
too sweet

tenderness

We two, bruised up, begin
saying, "love", remembering

Woke up faces
are at hand