A low count of laughter
over this last week [is
this a form – a pattern
of how it will be?] – I
treasure radio voices +
listen too much to auld
broadcasts I have heard
before [as if that herd
is in my rooms + close]
+ then find a person in
my screen break to suck
on as my rare sweetness
of contact – sorry if I
am so troubling you too

This needs an explanation
of sorts – we are no good
at telling any truth – As
time grinds into powdered
recalls – nothing holds –
we stir spoonfuls [a brew
of cooling to sweeten] in
our yet-sipped – Honest’s
time travel plans [set by
Mr God himself] so fucked
it up – He is a fool – On
china a cut of sweet cake
to share is set – my eyes
are grazing on this feast
[soon no more delicacies]

A huge majority of people
on wheels – every age set
to balance with speed – I
did not fall – Charleston
was circled by lycra-clad
fools – up-over men raced
back into muddied youth –
through puddled ruts they
fiew – + a nuclear family
took a wheeled kid too as
we walked on – it we knew

I was He – a singing
detective stuck with
his devious off-wife
in an un-washed ward
under NHS ruies – He
won’t ever be fooled
by banality – with a
beat – he said – She
is there in visiting
hours to crawl under
sore skin [flake-red
toe-to-brow] – Every
little bleeda thinks
he can write – see a
penny dreadful’s end
comes with a villain

There – a sign set out
[timed to coincide?] –
made of rolled weights
+ easy-to-finds – Ours
no longer to be ours –
I enter my mourning as
if they have died – as
a tide is sure to as I
am sure too – Salt-ish
kissed eyes are mine –
my grief to weigh – in
tears [something in my
eye] – my sign set out