Friday, 26 June 2015


Unfurl like a banner
across the street and
into the stoop
of the man in poop
- that filthy homeless
bag of bones, home alone
oh oh the zone,
get out the zone!
go left!
left wing on the high sing
go go jing jing
get out of your mind
and get into the pit,
it's happening down there,
below the constructs and
the jobs
and the bank accounts
and the tax returns
and the cut price
pizza tuesdays
and the high school
teachers on their way to
the fields of sandwichs,
below the howling of frogs
stranded on footpaths
where the canals are filled in;
below the treachery and deceit
of the reality
promised to you by
television, movies
and the third voice in your mind;
get below the idea
that you have a you
that that you has a right
and the will
and the means
to make it all the way;
get below the idea
that there is a way,
that there's always been a way,
that there always will be a way -
there is no way,
there's only one fixed spot
and it's not even here.
Get below it all,
just get the fuck below
and stay there,
if you know what's good for you

Thursday, 25 June 2015


I followed the blind man home,
it turned out he lived in a glass house
and nobody had told him.
Outside sat dozens of people
who just watched.
I joined them as we saw the blind man
do blind things
in the dark.

Wednesday, 24 June 2015


A slow return,
hazed out of nothingness
and bled back into shot.
Big Jim filled the screen
once more.
The children around him
were dusty skulls
on dusty piles of dusty bones long had he been gone?

A faint flicker,
two round eyes,
the shutters rolling up.
Big Jim I am...
he began to begin again,
consciousness reassembled
fingers twitching
at the moons of his
he swooned with the beat back
Big Jim on the backtrack
"Salt of me and salt of my,
Big Jim I am and
Big Jim I'll die"
But did he...?
Glancing down he beheld an ego,
rumpled on the floor
all purple powder and
designer mirage.
He kicked at the bones
of a bastard child,
and rose out of
his big easy chair.
He walked outside
and wasn't there.
The sky split
and a giant lawnmower
passed overhead
through the seam
of the seemingly infinite.

Sunday, 7 June 2015


a limb which grew fat 
a golden light 
an Indian man staring out the tram 
milk bottles for an eye piece 
moves like a girl, that gentleman 
your necklace is a key
ironed shirt
this morning 
tartan scarf 
beautiful hugs on the floor 
straight cut - suck her lips 
criss cross
check s'il vous plaƮt
i have change but not to hand
my love 
actioning off energy 
until god  
panting in your ear 
money gone gone monies 
disasters in writing and in foot steps 
surgically removed without a drop of anesthesia
waiting in line 
she refused to come around 
pose for photos 
smile like the sunshine
never thought 
never could have guessed 
finger tattoos 
take a piss bunny rabbit
watch me blow her a kiss 
let her suck you dry 
stepping from the boat, soon 
walking up or walking down
still it'll been gibberish till the end 
she stands there like a queen 
a royal 
a royal look upon her face 
knee operated taps 
dressed like a salesman for the good lord and his teachings 
the only lord - no god but my god 
asian baby at the wheel of the carriage that carries guests to the house where you follow them into every room
shiny old beemer 
classy + white 
ZOO turn left
foxtrot charlie 
piccolo please 
calorific bodily sensations 
a work of art in running shoes chasing the dream 
sunday after all
tomorrow gone 
tomorrow's gone 
tomorrow is gone 

tomorrow is