Chivalry

I saw a knight
An order of the garter
Today on a bike
Like a lord
Of the roads
With beard,
A red Honda
And fibre glass aero curve.
A True King.
Real men don’t smile.
Real men shag wome.

'Pidgeons in Transit'

I believe we are in High Wycombe. Beautiful.

Dreams a bloon.
Do you want a bloon?

Breasts.
Big breast
I have never seen.
What do you do with them?
Are they yours?
Do you share them?
Can he..pinch?
Breasts.
I like your breasts.
Breasts
You're breasts
Can I...pinch?

I saw beautiful mounds of earth with grass, I saw formations in brick and stone.
Towering steel serrated spikes, quite motionless mechanical monsters.
I saw them. All.

Your car is shit. Thankfully I don’t own it.
Ownership is man made kind.
Ownership is bliss and torment, entwined.
It gets better or worse everyday.
It exists in terms of numbers and lies.
I am objectless, one day in the future perhaps.

I have never seen such a beautiful thing.
You smell of cheese. and vomit.

There were hills.



We did good things.
When we were young,
on roads

M40

The pylon is naked like my thoughts
And pain I've caused.

I like you naked,
More than with your clothes on.
Original like Adam
or e.,

I MIGHT NEVER SEND A LETTER 'GAIN

In time I will collect
The ashes
Of my face
And the endless photos
Of sheet glass
And naked breasts.

And everyone will say
I loved her.

I time I will take her grace
And like a tall
Glass fill myself
With colourful explosions
And distasteful replicas
Of plastic aeroplane toys,
Marked foliage
Or leaves.

And everyone will say
I was not for her.

Or else I will mark time
And take each changing object
As sandstone

The industry
Of thoughts
Or houses


And everyone will say

I might.

2006

The sun goes down on another year,
Two-thousand and six.
The light is soft, the sky is flat
And now it is raining.

Seaside Yesterday

seaside yesterday
love on the currents
warm mist blue
with beady fire lights
men in tall dark green
and satin on the sea's sheen.

the crashing waves
were music
for the morrocan pipes
and lilting rythms
the haze
of summer nights

coastal like a rock
on a tidal voyage
through twittering
concierge
and sex

Reading of The Mounted Pond

The Crow didst bless the slated fringe
And rest its sooty crest, upon the slant.
And upon its sunken gaze our eyes did dart
Forthwith its pitched surety didst depart.

An obfuscate haze dusted my lips and hand.
One beside himself, sat Eastwards in memoriam.
Paired in pairs, across the oily undulate -
The taloned duck in May-ward quarry set.

My ears the adopted audience of wayward tape
From whence fell into mine pocket open gape.
Dispersed, my senses urged to waxly coalesce,
And shadow out, the prating clamour of excess.

I shared their reading of the mounted pond,
Without glance of name, scripted e'er so fond.
Etched sans breath, the ditty echoes promptly,
Our earthly response fevers outward courtly.

Beside the Heron's crutched twigs and rows
Of silken geese. Amid the dewlets darty
And hopping, not proud but inwards dropping.
His sooty breast so lent clawed & cropping.

With perceptive eye it unfurled - the Crow -
Its poised, knotted digits parleyed sorrow.
Cycles erred trepid, as the wakeful likeness
Emerged my mind to symbiosis - now I know!

The Studio

Peach radiance and fresh gum hue
Quick anxiety doth vanish from you.
And this is it no mock no other:
No shamblesome cliche or hastiful blunder
For here is assertion, authority and flair,
The mission to sow twice the fair share.
Conveyed with profession, whimful and calm,
Portrait of knowledge: eve's mind sooth'd like balm.