Monday, 28 November 2011


brightly breathing, lungs of astronauts, swimmers, princes and thieves,
plucked hairs from golden geese, hen pecking mothers, fighting, 
the air is crisp with lightning, lockets that depict our once fair ancestors, 
hanging nonchalant, bragging genetics, like hen pecking mothers,
fighting to be at the front, sitting tall and proud, worshipping,
some sprat or another, each mum as gleeful as the other,
with their glasses emptied after supper, thin silver chains,
cold against collarbones, then out into the rain, 
to tear up at the sight of something simple once again. 

held together

I stumbled right into your pretty face, 
crumpled up, but held in place, 
a barking dog, a cold drink to taste,
bad water running upstream, 
bad collateral, indebted and penniless, 
hatching schemes from double yolk eggs, 
running miles on club feet and broke legs, 
you held up shards of shell, 
you put pins in my joints, 
like moth wings behind glass, 
secured along a fixed path, 
now I’m trained, now I’m happy, 
I can see through the opening in my cone, 
I can’t eat the stitches on my legs, 
I could, I can’t, but my god I’m in love. 

Sunday, 13 November 2011


pitter patter goes my heart, cracks like an egg,
 yolk everywhere everywhere everywhere, 
heard chatter in the dark, you circling like a shark,
 skirting around everything everything, 
tomorrow you will be straight forward,
 hate notes sent remotely, you are everywhere,
sweet hot nothing breaks like a wave,
 there is a certain finality, like a dead end, 
streets leading nowhere, nothing isn't a place worth knowing,
I'm full to the brim and 
literally pooling around you,
tearful, teetering, punch drunk and stuttering, 
remember it please, was it a different face,
 was it a different serious of accidents, 
we've led each other here,
 to the back of some cave,
all tucked up, all folded in.


Bring back the bargaining,
the bitter pleas for attention,
the gravel in my lungs,
the disheartening,
the bitter lips,
 sympathetic clucking tones,
burnt out horizons far ahead of us,
 etched in,
a permanent plate in my head.

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

d. d. d. d. d

there are lives unfolding under our breath,
 burnt out wicks from candles, stubbed impulses,
crumbs spilling out onto jumpers, hearts penned up in idioms,
brains wracked for synonyms, madness clasping our hands,
 tender hands, calm, gently suggestive, innuendo sustained,
much longer than any thought could be trained,
 heat seeking missiles wrapped up on themselves,
tail chasers and cross faders.