A cat hunches under a parked car

screws that don’t turn don’t want to

the sound of an apple falling heavier than the object

crashed fox grins at roadside

geese heard overhead but not seen

still on a stepladder

new rain

33rpm

drum rudiment

inadvertent touching of owl feathers

suggest a jester

I’m buying socks

this is as good as it gets

a punch in the guts to start doing what I want

hitting a door to give my left hand a chance

no big deal

it hurts but not for long

and the poor quality door will survive me

don’t treat anger

use it as a tool to shape the days

lifestyle fashioned from vexation

a gift given to you

for bones have their own bones

and everything is a part of something else

the long flat views

we never realised we were so high

the change from one season to the next

from Druidism

to Catholicism

from Protestantism

to Nonconformism

from hunger

to consumerism

from farm

to factory

from Welsh

to English

more slavery than at any other time in history

pirates command whole seas

Colonel Gaddafi as Bob Dylan

G.I. Gurdieff in downloaded loads

I was thinking about my mother

how to remember her

how she used to look

smell sound laugh and walk

when we roamed the savannah together

all the things she told me

lost at midnight in the vicinity of villages

with “Moat” in their names

I remain underground

don’t get noticed

don’t meet eyes

my imprint already known

hillocks of washing up

the wrong graveyard

in a never-ending episode of Red Dwarf

Matt’s here with the weather

local produce

she said she’d been waiting

for a tall man to come along

I handed her the milk carton she required

she pushed her trolley away

walking over a footbridge

there’s nowhere else to go

behind a young Indian woman

pushing a push chair with good legs

they wore shorts with tights

and intoxicated me

I wore a jacket with a torn inside pocket

full of a letter from a mental hospital

autumnal arousal

she gets in touch

apology envelopes

a rumoured body

a known feint

women

omen

men

me


(bedtime story) he lay unable to sleep

thinking about a hundred things he could now do nothing about

whirring around inside his washing machine skull

as revellers loudly made their way home in the street

he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep

he wondered how much total darkness

there was in his life in life

his heavy eyes closed and he settled into a half comfortable position

(began to dream of an embrace

a tryst he had imagined many times

this time more real than ever

deliciously feeling limbs surround him

the heat of another body

he inched closer into the cuddle)

a toenail scraped his shin

his fantasy was over

somehow there was someone else in his bed

a shape with an unknown face

who had come to lie beside him

he withdrew his hand from the other’s arm

heard their steady breathing

his own quickening respiration

his body grew cold though the stranger remained warm

cosy in a threatening way

he asked in a weak whisper

“who are you?”

no reply he asked again again no reply

he tried to wrestle free from the hug

but strong fingers gripped his elbows

his feet pinioned by athletic legs

the union of terror lasted until first light

when the intruder vanished in a moment

or so it seemed

he got up cautiously clammy with sweat

the bedroom door was still locked

he nervously searched the wardrobe under the bed behind the curtains

he peered carefully through the window

and saw that nothing was out of place

nothing

(unfit Inuit unit intuit into it)

reality TV

an adult adult on the cusp of a cusp

and how long does a long hard look take?

I assert my right to silence

to oddity

to isolation

to think about instantaneous evolution

until it cajoles all other thoughts from my thinking

the trigger-happiness be upon you

the heat and torpor caused by weight gain

the bacon brought home

dropping hot cakes

conventional oven

a butcher’s apron

for a three brain roast

bishop as penis penis as bishop

a word that is unable to give its word

toss but sexy in the modern way

castrated babies dodging dogging sex

where will bonfires reveal themselves

in the coal of the countryside?

the smiles of women on horseback

sunshine on tall brightly painted seaside houses

life is getting some money

spending some money

having pleasant and unpleasant interactions

I conclude that I must now be working

for Goldman Sachs

capitalist punishment

grateful servitude

to a cancerous authority

me too at times a joke

international banking conspiracy

of no specific ethnic origin

sacking me sacking you

handmaiden to a regime

misunderstood mantras repeated

race to the bottom

to impoverishment

as others make a profit out of the gap

between us and them and us

the near-mirage effects of changing the hour

I’m rusting

invaded by a single celled mould

it’s that time of our lives

they are surprised to see me

still amongst the transplanted population

when we were human

we stood with livestock

milked slaughtered and salted our way

through iron ice and snow grass

revered our ever present ancestors

opened our eyes when we looked

at the uninterrupted night sky

the way we weren’t

the syllable factory still in business

see a man about a headstone

and tolerate zero

I need someone not something

not a postcard from a postcard

“wishing you had posted me”

broken vein

haranguing God

dimming down

insects at windows at night

in a dry kind of aquarium

bigger clothes for the expanding universe

the men have the same names

they stopped taking photographs of their children

after the age of ten

gin and bath tonic

what’s “reindeer furniture” in Finno-Ugric?

what do I know?

let everything that moves move me

updated by @paul-steffan-jones2: 11/24/19 06:16:51PM