Boxing Day, 2013

For Elise and Starr

Water's invented
some centuries ago and
shut in

Red coat
flares out

Now the trews are piractickal and
chosen

A head of
deliberate hair

Words just
make it
as words

Water's still but
isn't frozen

Look through
haw
thorn
spare and close to where
the horses have coats too

Sun's up to
show cold

Remember: this
is walking

Crisp: the ears
listening

This is us

Bus note 84

        St George's lit up reindeer

        stares woven eyed.

Towers wait to come down 

        as Winter glisters.

Sparse trees are very mute

        but sharp swing of bus

        says something frantic.

Thin girl in cream faux fur

        with jitters and citric smile.

Cold air throws shards

for flabby hearts.

        Xmas, is it?

Xmas. Xmas.

Bus note 83

One obscene yellow splintered eye
in ferris wheel.
        Over the road
        Bolton, Murdoch and Watt
        in one gold skin
study fat paper plans.
        Broad Street comes up
        running to boring violence
and piss streams meander
in thin almost elegant lines.

Bus note 82

After yesterday's blowabout
        there's Autumn brightness.
Boy from over road
takes one stop trip
        with dissolved amity
        for shabby crown.
Can't breathe evenly:
old ghost fear register.
        A subject scuffed.

Bus note 81

The colouring book is very small.
        Reads: My name is...
Mother asks his name
        and he draws
        a thick blue skyline.
Book's full of stuck in eyes
and pictures of broad skinnylegged men
tottering.
        Tips of her nails
        painted with dark half moons.
Brightness of her woven cuffs.
        She touches the pages softly.

Portrait 11

           skylight white
                            bleach corridor

She conducts mute themes
               coming from photographed faces
           of people who are dead

       Come evening, a small whiskey fuming

                            Our Lady of Lourdes

                    her Irishness

            a golden brooch
                 her hands hold
                          closed

Bus note 80

Someone had penned
"I luv cunt"
on the window
in purple marker.
        Boy with too awake eyes
plagues his older brother away.
        One stop gone
        and he calls him back;
        a stringent rhythm.
In this damp heat
too thick a coat
        and the tether frayed.