Categories

All Blog posts

Cloud Song


erasure poem: The sound was hungrily devoured./ What grabbed everyone was/ hypnotic extracts from the sky,/ frantic vocals captivating the air


As Above So Below


0.2

Mud as a river. Mud as a theoretical concept, the transistory state of matter rarely glimpsed. Mud described in complex equations. Mud as the consequence of our actions we refuse to acknowledge or take responsibility for, despite it chewing at our shins. Mud in our boots. Mud in our hair. Mud clogging up our pores so we sweat mud. Mud turning our hills to waterslides. Mud washing away our temporary shelters. Mud as a non-Newtonian fluid we can bounce across if we hit it hard enough. Mud as the inevitable future. Mud as penance. Mud as the herald, the herald of the flood.


Ambient II


After Aphex Twin


Cacophony


erasure poem: A slight chaos is obvious./ And what of that shadow/ either forgotten or lost?/Some different joy/ is out here screaming next to you


Shhhh


Listen, in between these seconds
plummeting like raindrops -


May and June 2023 Input


This is slightly late as I've thrown myself back into the world after a halting start to the year. I joined a gym, started going to more things and exploring the new area we live in. I also went to Birmingham and other places around the country a bit more.


Another espresso shot sky commute


I define myself by edges--my skin,
car bonnets- but I am oh so permeable.
Chest matching thumpthumpthump of potholes.
Clemency lies between radio stations,
in the pause before windshield wipers
swish back to starting positions.
Hands tapping morse on the steering wheel,
messages to distant and unseen agents.
My party trick is dissolving into vapour.
Rumble strips and cat's eyes broadcast:
"Forget all you know. Unlearn your old self.
A new world is forming in articulated lorry spray.
Rewild your petty dreams and ambitions."
Infusing clouds reach swirling fingers
to stroke my embossed flesh, damp comfort.


On Threads


By now you would have seen there's a new social network in town. Threads is a Twitter alternative made by Meta[1] and closely linked with Instagram. I signed up out of curiosity and almost immediately regretted it.


Elsewhere


erasure poem: You may decide to drift ethereal./ Become aware of the veil


Between them is a canyon


They sometimes shine torches over the strata
of compressed time, with sweeping, shaking
hands. Eternity is present in their half smiles.


Previous Page

Next Page