27 September 2012

a kind of canto

   the echoing tip
   the wood-ash stars
   spread wide
   touching from a distance
   red earth and pouring rain
   nausea the wall and other stories
   crossing the water
   burning your boats
   on the road
   all points north
   in the company
   of crows and ravens

21 September 2012


and I'm cloudy on specifics
the harbour of our quiet minds
the one instilled inside the stillness we
speak of
we are capable of unfolding
the complex detritus
the bullshit and the barricades
the beautiful and blissful
some call it sunyata
and you find it on your way to work and in
the last line of the second verse
in a painting in a drunkards smile
and I'm cloudy on specifics
he found it in his prison cell
and it
wrapped around him
the complex
and he unfolded
his origami heart
and got lost
in the creases where the crooked
angles of the mind
deflect the wholeness
of his breath
the valley of his thoughts
the ones unburdened 
by language
inarticulate in the husk
of his body

lay awake illuminated

it quietens it
sepia seams a dusk a door
time lapse in the absence of thought
continuum distracted by how empty
the car park is
three floors
of concrete and space
light against dark 
spaces pulled 
into the greasy mouth of morning
lay awake illuminated 
cast into the comfort of 4am
a mould transcending tick
small parameters
buildings shift
their ribs 
and breathe unoccupied
by the skin and bone of our beat
rhythmns slip 
into syncopated slits
our arbitrary breath
my trivial feet
balanced on the body 
of what is not
and joy
balanced on the body 
of what is not
my arbitrary smile
a mould

19 September 2012

engine and temple

and the fractals

fell from my mouth

post apocalyptic


answers in the abstract

engine and temple

this polygraph pulse

this extinct air

absorbing the template

of a cliché

pigment and particle

my addendum my detriment

the demolished

sky line

08 September 2012

casting off

the river didn't widen
it didn't procrastinate
it thinned 
into Gas Street Basin
lamplight lifting from the lock
casting off casting off
we passed a whispering boat
made of wildness and the artiste 
loudly on her blackberry
he rolled his cigarette and sighed into the rust more
authentically than she
could ever hope to
taking two slow breaths 
before following
my question
into the marina
we watched
deep veins in the sky 
open on the tall 
machinery of this city
we watched a quiet man
hooking bread onto a line
casting off casting off
I ask 
her name
my pound
of flesh she says
"remember what your mother promised you,
she promised you fuck all sweet merry dolls!"
and she shimmied down Moor Street
smelling of piss
and Elvis
the river didn't widen
it didn't procrastinate
it thinned 
into Gas Street Basin
lamplight lifting from the lock
casting off casting off