AVANT-GARDEN

Elicit gift of a garden brush

a vesicular heel of over-handled wood,

obsolete without working hands looped

because I’m busy tying knots in trellis’ rope

for when in bloom

they hold me up

Rise then, off-pink Clematis

a street of archers ready to loosen ‘rows,

buds hold patient like hoods on heads

still butterflies and bees pry

at hedge-level height from an ant

the same distance of the sky

from the hull of a plane and I

 

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SEASONAL DIVISE

Are we as faithful as birds in trees,

as patient for spring as they

For summer’s stream and autumn slopes

as prepared for the shrill lodged in winter’s throat

are we too grounded, too clipped

if even one of us believes our

Earth is flat.

Are we as free to soar, to sink

as they are birds in trees

 

 

BOWLINE

I’ve driven men away
Into sinking sands with no Way Out

I’ve driven men away
Into overcrowded metaphors;
Heartbreak Hotel, Single AF, Bachelor Pad

I’ve driven men without being able to drive
with folded eyes to far off skies

Many a mile and many in bloom
from casual drinks to a hotel room
from a white-flowered wedding aisle
I’ve driven men and continue to

This does and is including you,
You, not the only man I’ve forced away
the only one I hoped would
s t a y

MORNING ROUTINE

A face skinny dips into water
gathered in the sink

The sky jigsaws into leaves
of the purposely-obscured bathroom window

Damp light begins to disrupt the night
They merge like the pocket of air under an accordion skirt or a jellyfish rowing through the sea

Shrinking stars support a toe nail clipped moon
soon exhumed by the sky’s deep blue

She hates her job
Until lunch time
Until home time

RED SEA

They had eroded like sedimentary rocks

He was the heavy rain that wore her down

She was crystal that formed in place of abrasions

think poppy amongst shrapnel

 

After 30 seasons of his wicked weathering

She forged a black hole in her brain’s limbic system

Where memories are made, scientists say

She’d bury him alive in the sink hole of her mind

In it would be everything they ever did

Every thought, every glimpse

Except for their three kids

1 billion seconds later,

She shut the door to his easy shelter

It takes 1 second of 1 billion

To find the graphene-hard gristled

heart of courage

To lose the mental torture

and the man responsible

To walk barefoot through the broken glass

Of the plates she’d launched when it got too much

Of the wedding frame that arched a happy man and wife

To walk barefoot through the broken past

To walk so far, she won’t look back

SEA HOLLY OF LITTLE LONDON

How can one city be another?

I swear that I was there

In this place but feeling there

Miles from the real thing

London commuted into me

 

The live nostalgia I reeled

Made me angle in, some make believe

That the streets beneath my feet

were southerly

 

O bell that chimed at quarter past

Was an Elizabethan Royal clock

The passing people passed

With Southern bags from Southern shops

Tourists, tourists

But all the Scousers, no longer Northern

 

For a moment on Bold Street

I felt the energy of a capital city hosting me

Whilst peeking into eateries

Perhaps it could be Paris that I’m feeling

 

Friday night, December 1st

People without plans and those who reserved

Students, couples, family, friends

I’m alone in Liverpool

Ode to be England’s capital