In the peripheral
Of crescents
Cul-de-sacs
Disrespected alleyways
Lost behind dull signs
Fleeting
In reflections
The unfathomable
Memory Vapour
Often distant
Sometimes fading
Throbbing vibrantly
Forever fading
In tangent
With the pulse
Of those
Who
Project them
Still touch
The finest hairs
Of the passer-by
The unknowing
What a day I’ve had, earlier, I dream’t I was falling. Now that I’ve woken up, I really am! I’m sitting in the driving seat of my car, seat-belt on and plummeting over a ridiculously high cliff. I must of left the handbrake off you see. You’ve gotta laugh really – I intend to. I’m playing it over and over in my silly little mind, and yet nothing stops me from leaving that really useful handbrake off. How clumsy of me, still, I’m going with a bang I suppose; even looks like I’m missing the tide that’s in. Not only am I gonna be smashed to bits bouncing off those rocks but burnt too; a true Hollywood explosion I can only imagine, just to be sure. Actually I’m quite lucky really cos I’ve always been terrified of the thought of drowning – and it’s funny, they say that it’s your life that flashes before y–
The seventh month
That’s actually the ninth
Those Romans still rule
But we can’t change it now
Why suddenly the embers
People start up the fires
And the burning I can smell
Quick close that bloody window
A signal to slow death of leaves
Look up and celebrate their beauty
Oops there drops another one
Somebody sweep that mess up!
August, the last noisy neighbour
September is the first peace in autumn
For winter is the drama-queen
So roll on next September
Sometimes I’m asleep with one eye open,
then I’m awake with both eyes shut.
Some days I just can’t stomach it,
but I get up! So that takes some guts.
As Beautiful Chloe gazed down into her open, little, black bag, the whole of her face slid off, into it, like hot saturated fat.
Faceless Chloe calmly zipped the bag closed and placed it on the bedside table, fumbled the cover off her bed and rolled under it, only then to wait impatiently for her sleep to arrive before morning.
As the day passes before you, you sit longer than you had planned
on the most servant park bench.
Then, subtly, a lost shadow whispers into your ear, It says, shame about the
cats and dogs. You haven’t the heart to tell it that it hasn’t rained for days.
Meanwhile, time must be folding inward; squeezing itself until a residue from
a meaningful downpour leaps from your chin.
You remain seated on the bench getting wet, and as you do, you’re
unknowingly and repeatedly shapeshifting; into every person who has ever sat
there for exactly the same reason you do.
The blues will and always remain to be blue.
And so, yours to you maybe/always darker,
but at least mine are mine and blueish blue,
not nearly seen to be true — just felt.
Just believe me when I say I have the blues.
Sometimes, I can see daily life within the capacity of a retro 48k
computer; the colour clash — together with the sunniest days Sun
can be quite mesmerising. No loading error…
The very most splendid train service,
never late nor leaves it’s track.
As it goes deeper underground,
accidentally switching to another line,
it stumbles across secret stations,
And now the return service is not so good.
I Eat Let.ers 