the gone
the ghost
the last train home
29 April 2013
28 April 2013
tonight
I am a graveyard
if I cant dance
so I do and I do
and I eat
the night
with ambivalence and yen
kissing both cheeks using no wordskin of old queens
kin of queer
kin of sharing
your last cigarette
27 April 2013
in the ask
in the hips
of hello
and the abstract
sense of time
it's nice to meet you
in the grey
ocean of your mouth
and the history
of your skin
in the tide
of your tongue
it's nice to meet you
26 April 2013
you multiplied
into your skin
into the concrete hymn of the bend
it was data
it was tender as the bite
it was an arrow
it was blood
it was an outline
a calm
circumference that coiled
into the meta
morphosis
24 April 2013
swallow the swelled
sense of rage
the pinch points
the punch
ease
the context
through the needle
into the wider
mouth of us
draw blood
23 April 2013
sign the waiver
eat the wind
the fragrance of jest
the realness of skin
eat life
in its own hardness
unpick the myth
of potency
the sickness
of stars
and
then
that
one
exception
22 April 2013
I think it was you
that long Friday night
flat out on the platform
puking blood
I had to roll you over
hold your hair
out of the way
now your walking through the station
Monday catching in your throat
like a bookmark
tepid
and tired
21 April 2013
20 April 2013
46
and it's not eloquent
years
your wife
wears her best top
not to overdress but
to ricochet the expectation
you put £500 quid
behind the bar
so we drink to your time and your
gentle way of being
your sisters in their soothing
irish tongue
sit at the table and talk
about their drive here and the food
I wish
I knew the bones of you
better
and it's not eloquent
years
your wife
wears her best top
not to overdress but
to ricochet the expectation
you put £500 quid
behind the bar
so we drink to your time and your
gentle way of being
your sisters in their soothing
irish tongue
sit at the table and talk
about their drive here and the food
I wish
I knew the bones of you
better
18 April 2013
the fog
of a cut out moon
of a cut out moon
the bloodline
the road
blending with the bend
a square
on a square on a square
roots splitting truth
into roof top hues
border
lines
fists that aren't
really there
17 April 2013
Ricardo
you are made of ink
of hospitals
of home
your breath is like a fist
made of sleep
you sit like silt
like a border
like a line
deciding where to bend
your pulse
belongs to doctors
to machines
you are made of half the story
your the end of my shift
your my bus ride home
your this thought now
your the end of my shift
your my bus ride home
your this thought now
16 April 2013
the stalled train the anger the rage
that crawls into your face
in through the eyes the teeth the feet
the way your body
is an instrument you play you play you play
until the strings are worn the question
old
and sliding
down the perspex
onto the ragged heap
of rush hour blues that accrued before it
before your minor key spit
added to the blend
of I wanna get home and all the wanna get homes that came before it
15 April 2013
broken like the light like the pulse
the walls are walls are walls are walls
incessant how the curtains
still need ironing
after the wash the wash
the wash they hang
in the only lick of sun
on the line the line the line
14 April 2013
I washed the dishes with fingernails full of poems
I watched the cut lip sunset turn truck stop pale
unfolding the crow the crow
unfolding me
he said to me that winter is the way you breathe
I kicked the gravel and his dark
heart
and washed the dishes
with fingernails
full of poems
13 April 2013
like origami
folded through the I
the we
and why not
this low tide of slices
over
lapping
bent and grooved into
the old
into the old
sense of self
foetal bar code bliss
illusion and her skin
illusion and the strong
wet grip of theory
like origami
folded through the I
12 April 2013
scraped into the hue
whole
forked split staggered
into the apex
into nothing
neglecting a quiet smile
kissing all the synonyms
and antonyms
as if I mean it
just in case
just
in case
whole
forked split staggered
into the apex
into nothing
neglecting a quiet smile
kissing all the synonyms
and antonyms
as if I mean it
just in case
just
in case
11 April 2013
on closing my mouth
self
similarity
the constant angle
of an alphabet
a coastline
of words
of punctuation
between the teeth
marking the omission
10 April 2013
09 April 2013
the day didn't curve
it stayed perfectly still
it stayed easy
between shoreline and affection
the broken lampshade
broke
into pieces
into my hand
light bulb bare
it broke easy
the crack
I'd been tracing for weeks
cracked wider
into the skin
08 April 2013
I ask you in callouses
in the callouses of my tongue
looped together
in the blues
in the lowest chord
in flat notes
in tune
I ask you in knots
and scars and smiles
I ask you in islands
in the islands of my tongue
I wait in the shade
and I never explain
I ask you in islands
in the callouses of my tongue
looped together
in the blues
in the lowest chord
in flat notes
in tune
I ask you in knots
and scars and smiles
I ask you in islands
in the islands of my tongue
I wait in the shade
and I never explain
I ask you in islands
07 April 2013
I hope in the curve
that rarely curves
and the force
is not force at all
it's a slip
of the tongue
a wish for roots
that are wide
and deep
and awkward
I hope in the curve
that rarely curves
I hope in language and how nakedly it breathes
I wish I
I
I
I
hope in the curve and in the eaves
of sacrifice
I hope
06 April 2013
valuing honesty
and the crooked way it spills
all the may
bees
gathered in threads
queued
in pulsing knots
05 April 2013
"silhouettes are slip roads" she said
"and bones are bones"
her question ssssss
put skin on the skeleton
old skin
old as the ache
in code in code
ssssss she
split the oak tree
with sawdust on her lips she was just below the surface still
deeper than the root
"and bones are bones"
her question ssssss
put skin on the skeleton
old skin
old as the ache
in code in code
ssssss she
split the oak tree
with sawdust on her lips she was just below the surface still
deeper than the root
04 April 2013
girl eats the wind
it tastes like Tuesday
it tastes pignut white
she plays rock paper scissor
inside her mouth
dumb tongue versus
dumb tongue
exfoliating madness
with a salty
cucumber scrub
skin smooth as wise
men
saying nothing of the women
she has loved
for what is there to say except
they taste like Tuesday
they taste pignut white
they play rock paper scissor
inside her mouth
it tastes like Tuesday
it tastes pignut white
she plays rock paper scissor
inside her mouth
dumb tongue versus
dumb tongue
exfoliating madness
with a salty
cucumber scrub
skin smooth as wise
men
saying nothing of the women
she has loved
for what is there to say except
they taste like Tuesday
they taste pignut white
they play rock paper scissor
inside her mouth
03 April 2013
Wednesday we
resurfacing
gather into complex needs and envy
the trees
without their ribcage
boneless
and joined
Wednesday we
resurfacing
resurfacing
gather into complex needs and envy
the trees
without their ribcage
boneless
and joined
Wednesday we
resurfacing
02 April 2013
holding onto the romance of death (or the sentimental margins of loss)
and the moss didn't move
just like the honeysuckle
didn't seem to care
you
beneath the earth
between azaleas and daffodils
every finger
and thumb
covered in dirt
in the blood of dirt
as if the garden had skin
and I had peeled it raw
and ragged
you and
the dust of you
one slow slim lick
of the wound
just like the honeysuckle
didn't seem to care
you
beneath the earth
between azaleas and daffodils
every finger
and thumb
covered in dirt
in the blood of dirt
as if the garden had skin
and I had peeled it raw
and ragged
you and
the dust of you
one slow slim lick
of the wound
01 April 2013
Peterborough Services
here again like ghosts
I walk half the oval
anticlockwise
holding your weight
between my hands
pushing you through
the winding queue for burgers
between blue neon arrows
waiting for the bolt to slide
VACANT
your body
lifted slowly
and after
I washed your hands the way you
had washed mine
was and is
the was and is I walk
half the oval
anticlockwise
remembering your weight
between my hands
that old wheelchair now
returned the things
you have to give back
the places
that remind you
I walk half the oval
anticlockwise
holding your weight
between my hands
pushing you through
the winding queue for burgers
between blue neon arrows
waiting for the bolt to slide
VACANT
your body
lifted slowly
and after
I washed your hands the way you
had washed mine
was and is
the was and is I walk
half the oval
anticlockwise
remembering your weight
between my hands
that old wheelchair now
returned the things
you have to give back
the places
that remind you
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