climate change

mike bell poems

That scent is thick

That scent is thick
of summer’s weep
of sweat under my
pits [slipped brims
will not offset fears
of skin cancer]

It rattles

It rattles – as if a thousand
thousand bottles of drugs
are shaken [to reprove my
lacklustre skills in ticking a
prescription off

Our Last Songbird

What day is it? Does it matter
 to anyone - perhaps for those
 itemizing them now? I dunno’
 I’m a chancy man [chav & liar]
 among low canopies of song …/

Flood Pains in Uckfield

“It was reported pigs
were moved to safety”
as Olives Meadow [&
lowly places] readied
river defences …/

Flood Alert

  • by

I am on a long-bet flood plain
An elevated gravel path leads
beside pumpkin-cut grimaces
Eight grin-lit detached houses
bid shameless sharp views of …/

Desert Lined

  • by

As if lined Nazca will ever be deciphered
Geoglyphs were toe-pressed passages –
a way to work out their god’s failed plan

If this accident will

  • by

Kurt Vonnegut Jr didn’t believe
that your glaciers would thaw –
they are frozen [eternal] as are
man’s wan desire for a crusade

My Bodies

My first body pumps coal blood –
strata not veins – my black toxin
dug at by my antecedents & now
burning in our ravenous furnaces