That scent is thick
of summer’s weep
of sweat under my
pits [slipped brims
will not offset fears
of skin cancer]/ My
plots to escape will
fail/ No tunnels yet
completed/ So – no
Tom-Dick-or-Harry
will save us/ A war
of words over heat
won’t win [fades to
a catastrophic era]
Your cars idle – A/C
cools you [fuck ‘em
all – we deserve it!]
& our PLAN B slips
from sweaty reach
Tag: global warming
It rattles
It rattles – as if a thousand
thousand bottles of drugs
are shaken [to reprove my
lacklustre skills in ticking a
prescription off – as thuds]
50 gram tablets – for God’s
addiction to sorrow-hits &
we wonder why July’s now
a monsoon season/ British
summertime’s hiss of burnt
offerings on wet barbecues
confirm it/ Global warming
& other seasonal shifts piss
down [inhale rich stenches
of methane’s quick release
& other disasters below us]
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
Envy is mine – their names are
half-known – all descants new
even though I have listened to
them [countless times] before
in other coppices – other ways
We freewheel blind & armed –
so forsaking archaic relations
to & with & of – as if moments
no more matter & we are not a
scientific fact – we are an ugly
creature keeping to First Laws
of Motion [we become forces]
& having writ such rules shiver
them apart – with no remorse –
no hang of head – unless dead
& then we count those missing
souls & breeds – no songs left –
& we howl had-I-wist as if it did
really matter – as if we cared &
felt – but we are liars – perjurers
Flood Pains in Uckfield
“It was reported pigs
were moved to safety”
as Olives Meadow [&
lowly places] readied
river defences / Bags
of sand had been set
to safeguard that fine
dry cleaners down on
Bell Walk [no relation]
Locals dozed [steeled]
for damp renewals of
a [now] normal trouble
as my ex’s shed [sorry –
‘office’] sat tormented /
Such sudden erections
should be kept high up
[to miss wet torrents of
our flood-thrusted Uck]
Flood Alert
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
rooms & rooms & rooms [It is
too early to draw our curtains!]
& I walk [spectral] below sight
lines of slipped lounge lizards
on an orbit back to my ghost’s
town / Not much has changed
[apart from rain] in my scarcity
Troop-hoofed paths capitulate
to further boot tracks – to trails
of dogs & bikes / There’s more
rain on its way! / Amber flashes
heighten concerns for riverside
mortgagees [reviling long bets]
Here pebbles melt into grass &
a playing field – untouchable to
kids at this time of year – now a
playground [of sorts] for nosing
dogs & their equally dull owners
[my tribe of lead & turd carriers]
A hill rise – between doped rides
of swings & slides – then there is
my grey Ex-wife – I pray she can’t
see me – but prayers never work
on side-raining days – & my plea
is unanswered as she raises her
voice as if to her dog [but to me]
& I’ll vomit [spew?] all her letters
back at her – spit – no matter how
wet it makes her [Love is a route
to hatred – if your lover lives a lie]
There are no wagers now for our
solicitors or mediators to pursue
My climb finds me sitting – a rest
as my dog runs rings around her
bitch – I’ll call & she’ll return – see?