Friday, 30 March 2012


lick your fingers and stop this,
the nights long shadows,
need too much discerning,
more than I can muster,
more than each glance is earning,
I don't know enough,
can't reach enough
can't see a thing
 but flickering extensions,
 whole back lit dimensions,
 great contained infinity,
shut it off and sit with me.


watch you curl out your chest, as you breath in the air,
draw a line with the breath, that melts under your hair,
the sigh lights show me that your fading, out the good times into jading,
the bright light has drawn out, is hung out, is flawed and it is failing,
the raconteurs regaling was sold to us for training but we're all out of empathy,
and his heart is apathetic, beating like a pacemaker, regular and ordinary,
its all so damn proportional, the procession is disgruntled,
the street lights are blinding, with there sibilant similarity,
its all becoming so damn parallel, I'm paranoid and homesick,
bright light progression guiding and gaining, snowballs set a-rolling,
the cold night is strung out like cats eyes, like a metronome, sat atop that damn piano,
our vision is narrowed our tired skulls so sallow,
break bread to dip in the bitter, pill paste and shiver,
move with the litter, don't sigh like a quitter,
rant the world to right, screaming but indolent.

Thursday, 29 March 2012

Lost in ideas, the crisp morning is buried in bluster the headstone bears no name.
Swallowed up in whale song, sweat swallowed by the rain.
Fear arcs a sweeping dance with kindness as they marry off away.
Whole new waves are breaking as the cloud is melted by midday.

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

You're all sweet scents and hiccups,
dew drops glinting for half an hour,
stars on the grass,  tears from the leaves,
in the morning you are clip lisps,
kitten yawns.
and I ask you to leave.

Sunday, 18 March 2012

hunting season

young buck gunning for it,
glimpse of sun under cotton peak,
call out a hoot, what virile excitement,
its striding like a centaur, just forty yards away,
click out forty rounds a second,
a silver poleax spray,
in the tamed woods of wisconsin,
the soil is rich with red clay.

Wednesday, 14 March 2012


Burning up in pools for the shapedancers
I know you are cut from cloth,
sounding out like timpani drums,
tight bound and jag toothed,
oceans embalmed, breathless,
reep reep reep, there is much left to crush for,
to shout about, run into the mass,
concentrated whole, smear blood,
all down the fronts of us,
creep and crawl

Danced beats through bedsheets,
reep reep through blessed beats,
the ground you flagged and sweat into soles,
you dragged yourself up,
followed me for miles, for nothing,
clasped tight this hell,
 you've bound yourself to me,
do tell tell tell.

You called out,
between the long looks,
freckled faces, bowing graces,
a look to say I love you.

burning up in pools for the shapedancers,
I know you are cut from cloth,
finer thread than many,
feel so light and heady,
blood slips
between sips
the fissure leaks catastrophe,
the blessed slip, fall, break,
 for me,
pray pray.


silk cut marshmallows, deployed in unison, 
rigged together so sweetly, 
metal binding, ice white and blinding.
rain should roll into the dark,
over the dark green that pulls us apart,
the hot eyed horizon that swims like a shark,
can't stop for seasons, red lanterns for hearts,
held up machines, chewed it over and spat,
limp hand so humid so scared of the dark,
sad little whispered thoughts ran as I sat,
wind was so strong whole horizons might crack,
the black light, the plastic world, the night, the night,
ran out of pavement flat through the slats,
the moon light, the caustic world, the night, the night,
run out of town by the damn dirty rats,
the window's world is turning,
the rain is burning,
the bridge is blown,
my woes have grown.

Sunday, 11 March 2012

the day is found rug rolled and clawing,
a butt heading gnawing, all chewed up and snoring,
my heavy head cloying I'm all done enjoying the bright,
the blue is incurring such costs,
the red is guiding me lost.

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

All wrapped up in rapture and set to task,
readied in motion, already in masks,
the minutia of a larger clockwork,
a never dulling blade, replaceable,
untraceable, expendable and dazed,
sea lions a-roaring, quarreling and crazed,
motors set in motion out to ocean,
hollow laugh, a dripping tap of lotion,
a wave that long since out lapped the bath.


please build us all a bridge,
 we are heading for the lip of this,

my eye has found a ridge,
 and I don't know what's beyond it,

humming through the mist,
 spiraling around your fist,

there are some chains we can't resist,
 and we are collapsing under all of this,

please build us all a bridge,
 we are crumbling under all of this,

my eyes are frightened stiff,
 i'm frozen glued to all of this,

becoming overcome by bliss,
 so destructive it might ruin all of this.

Tuesday, 6 March 2012


Canned up as by fly traps,
 stale air packed up like boxed homes,
that we live in for long months after,
like clean bed sheets next to unmade beds.

i'd rather be packed in ash like pompeii,
 preserved for propriety, then fail,
i'd lick my lips, bide my time,
put my candles, fold my sails,
wait for the banshee sound to suck strong as a gail,
pull out the pop up books little arrows,
so that action sweet action can prevail.

Monday, 5 March 2012

sweet meat

good dolls are brim full,
ice water skin full,
goosebumps and drop calls,
are correlating to stall...

all the breaths in my lungs,
the words they would form,
ice water wears me,
you're saccharine and dull.

i cut myself shaving,
but the bloodlust was small,
i didn't need sympathy,
no, not at all.

Saturday, 3 March 2012

i'm alright, climbing up a reed,
breathing out a stitch, hauling ass,
running round corners, away away,
life burns on like one hit pipes,
takes affect quicker than soluble tablets,
tastes all the more bitter, the more times,
you fuck up or fall down,
all tangled up in guitar cables,
tripping over dirty laundry,
overstretched, overworked,
underpaid, but alright,
cracked off like a push pencil,
snapped led, missing out,
to jobs snapped up by the pure bred,
file another failure,
caught in a riptide of rain,
i'm alright waiting
 to be dumped out at sea,
crawl back to the shoreline,
wait for the clouds to clear,
its almost here, this is my year.

night life

I set the clocks,
sat wracked,
the slatted blinds like gills,
arching out street light,
over wet skin,
sticky as split oranges,
blinds breathing,
in and out
comes the eternal day,
and the sound,
of drunk nothing,
let them rot apple on their tongues,
and feed off the fermentation,
drinking in their own bullshit,
louder than planes,
stupid as sheep,
and again I can't sleep.


More shrapnel than skin,
hide of a well worn whale,
strung out on snow peaks,
years were horizons of blue,
sun crests breaking through,
the flora dries in heat haze,
the mist along the mountains,
ties it all like a seam.


The smell blistered out through the wool,
heat eked out through the gaps,
and transposed itself neatly,
in thin plates, pooling around the drains,
welling up all around,
the day was awash with it,
forming bright colours,
but who knows if they were greens or blues,
reds or browns,
blood or rust, twigs or nests,
these confused colours bled out on our vests,
and wet tie die shone bright on our chests.