turn the blinds
to show the sky
the buzzards wheeling
and calling

book of the dead men
grizzled carbuncular muscular
a man who has been left behind
disregarded
still intact (not 'proud')
"i do this" - sort of thing
exactly what is it?
washing on the line
behind the interview
all mountains
necessary to overcome

new girl
she has
square boat
gymnasium's red and green
bevelled track in wood
with an engine central

detective
appears
through more and more
distant gardens in french
and english the old
quaint cover
Agatha Christie i leave
displayed

so happy i
go with her
to a new world
students and fragments
cake and wool
a chocolate lunch
littering the road

moment watch

moment watch

rain falling in the shadows –
as when you thought
life fall apart –

clear and open spaces

pitch

pitch

desolate windy waste

it coming in up the valley
from sun going down place

ablaze and bloody
streaks reaching out to us

on the green corner
the chances pitch

amid litter of broken plastic
exposed entrails dark

shadow of hedgerow

what has become unrecognisable
with each throw of the dice

further up the road more trouble
so we count ourselves
fortunate to stand thus

boundaries I & II

dapple

wide white trunk

other’s leaves Flickr

like alicia’s picture her world

map bits of scribble few lots

grown up cracked up impress

http://www.flickr.com/photos/alificacion/3037934197/
Where I end and you begin.
Boundaries (I)

write anew
though
thought
gone

the world
buried
under centuries
of

myself
where we lived
before
now raised

‘heretofore unrealised’

http://www.flickr.com/photos/alificacion/3037934209/

This is my own private space (show me yours).

Boundaries (II)

remember the straight

remember the straight
that led to the sea
either side low windswept trees
gnarled and indifferent
my problems growing
the hill always seemed
indecent or man made
we argued over it
my friend laughing at my seriousness
you take it all too seriously he said
and the road sombre
now I see a brighter light at the edges
the sun about to appear after rain
why was it all so wasted so wrapped
in dark hedgerows all the broken
splinters of fragility strewn scare-wise
scattered willy-nilly in our slipstream
i see the long straight road

the poet cid corman and i

the poet cid corman and i


momentary impressions
where mentors
scribbled on leaves
leaving perhaps
a zero
the modern recluse
swarming on sidewalks
feels the same
disintegration

he isnt going to say anything about himself

he isnt going to say anything about himself
you’re going to say
you are going to be made to think
things through
with him
or without
take a ride
the ice for a slide
you
are going to disappear
you
might not like

what’s the point of him
telling us
about himself?
what does he know?
what do we understand?
where’s it going
ice
sort of
but not necessarily
so
cold just
the way of reflect

shuns
really tells you [shut]
not much and
are you listening?

MASTER'S WINDOW BOARDS

PLANET SWOOP DARK PLANET SCORCHED MAP SHEEN
LOVE MOMENT REPAINTED HEAVEN BLISTERING
CHANGED FROM BLUE
ARABIC CALLIGRAPHIC SCRIBBLING IN MOTTLED CORNER
HEN-PECKED DART-INFESTED DARKNESS
GRAINED FLECKS BREEZE RUFFLING SURFACE SEA
MY DIVINE CAPTAIN MOVES ME
MAKE A POINT OF DOING THIS BEING THERE
YOU KNOW WHERE YOU STOOD BEFORE WHEN IT WAS BLUE IT'S BLUE NO LONGER
NOW YOU SLEEP IN STANDING TO VIEW THEM
THEIR VERY CENTRES FOREBODING
THE FUTURE 'CALLE' CALLS THEM
STAND SENTINEL AWAITING EVENTS
TO BECOME NEW WINDOWS TO SEE TOMORROW WHERE I MAYBE SHALL NOT TIME
BOSS MAN RUNNING THE SHOW
DOWN NEW ART FOCUS STREET SPANISH NIGHTS PERHAPS
WE BROADEN OUR FAMILIES TO STRANGE BEHAVIOURS
GLOBALLY WARMED AND TIDES RISE
FOUNTAINS DELIGHT THE CALIPHS RIDE PAST
THE HOODIES SQUINT SPIT IN DUST SHADES I
AM OUT OF TIME

state



creative entangle
it how it is/was

enough
will tie/s in with

something to say