Fluxus

My heated tears contain stomach acid -
piteous shit - feeling sorry for myself
having thrown my empty gut's content
into the piss-plated Made in Italy bowl

They will not scar my face - we only fear
such long-term effects on our throats -
heightened instances of - that is . . .

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First Notes

There is a cool stubbornness
about you - it is quite fanciable

Life is not getting in your way
or going to bring you down

No house of cards - no others'
disturbances will take you

There is a surety in your eyes
You hest me - you have my revere . . .

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Seven Overs

For Tony Rees

Scuttled and wind-licked
we hunkered with beers
under the Shane Warne Stand

as scurried rainclouds toyed
with our long-hatched scheme
for a day of World Cup Cricket

under an English summer -
but no plan was framed for stacks
of latin-named dark formations . . .

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Country Pub

Before this evening's
swell of punters fill
empty wooden tables

we solemn few near-sober
slow pint daytime drinkers
take our lost afternoon
over equal measures

of flat beer and crisps
as that occasional hour hand
slogs around to grind out time

in this low muttering pub -
until intuition . . .

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Super Veterans

This lake's shore is disturbed by cutters
and mowers at two-stroke Sunday work
of keeping back too much growth -

still their gig crew rolls through turns
of hard rudder and clean recoveries -
breaking out a wake and six puddles

Four - together - power - six - power through
cries . . .

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Above Glynde Reach

I picked a bent path of grass treads
between time's tipped-hat stones
in St. Andrew's - Beddingham's
dry-high whispering graveyard

It hasn't absorbed any rising tidal
surge or sudden winter wash - of
God's clearing-out-no-chance-flood
since He-knows-when-of-last . . .

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War Poets

Paul Verlaine's Chanson d'automne
was coded - still popular poetry -
to give notice -

his long sobs of French-sung violins
declared an Allied invasion
to those listening

Whilst she never understood speeches
of love - and our common
mistakes -

I would rarely read to her - she rarely read . . .

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Gaddy

Constance Mary Sad - Baker - Clark -
also known as Gaddy -

pranced
through Europe's dared-to
decadence

finding her feet
in those wide-flared seventies
in every kind of ballroom competition

Come dance with me!
Len called -
a nine scored five times

by a sweet . . .

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