Rodge

∞ A spartan living room | old 3 bar fire on full pelt | a Wedgewood Elizabeth II 50th anniversary coronation plate on the mantelpiece with a chipped edge | next to a pair of dice & an incomplete Rubik’s Cube. Rodge |late middle age & peculiar | far away glazed expression | is sat…

That day | when the Man Dressed like a Forest…

∞ That day | when the Man Dressed like a Forest yodeled into the gash of a valley | the rising echo no reply but the semblance of his voice “which tragically has neither eyes nor sense to register itself.” First the ozone then the ocean masticated Kim’s missile | the whole world has gone…

Sam & Deli

∞ Sam & Deli meet at the entrance to their university | Sam arrives early every day to chain smoke roll-ups | trying to beat his previous record of 7 in the space of 15 minutes. It is winter. The threat of snow builds in blue cumulus | beautiful perm-like renderings. Sam: “Deli | how’s…

A farrago of ticks &…

∞ A farrago of ticks & jerks | Pencils & paper | spectacles & microscopes | cup & beverage orbiting each other. Outside off-licenses dogs yanked by air | still tied to lampposts | “panicky” owners clasping their fur | hugging their paws. “The gravitons leaked out somewhere!!!” Strangers grip onto one another | rising…

A face…

∞ A face | with more secrets patched in than Bletchley Park | in a street | a transient space to move from A-B | the jaundiced buildings scuppered by draughts of salt & age | a broken egg resembling seagull shit on the sea wall “Among us | daytime is not failed night |…

Enter through a door:…

∞ Enter through a door : exit a window — the Dunning-Kruger Effect | an abstract dip an invert parabola mocking egoism. As i poured milk | a car outside in synch | let out a strain in its throat : the world’s phenomena are telling. Later when the rain |…| we played chess in…

A glutinous assemblage…

∞ A glutinous assemblage | peels & cores festering a patch of healthy dirt. “The cork in my head | i float.” i ate 3 courses of cork | became a ship. i paid my compliments | she winced at me “my condolences” i saw her point— you do. None of this is real &…

A miserable git no quarrel there…

One of them difficult poems i’ve been banging on about lately. ∞ A miserable git no quarrel there | Larkin the everyman’s bard, the lad the lark Going, going — i see what he was driving at | it came to pass : our tarmac | clogged up vagus nerves & ventricles the fields fenced…