turnings
Listen, I’m not feeling so good.
I’ve diced the onion of my life
and no one else is crying.
I saw you in the garden,
trying to bury your shadow,
as the squirrels laid their nuts to rest
under a clotted sky.
I’ve been thinking about cows,
how they eat and eat the grass
but it never stops growing,
how the world turns so slowly
that it can almost seem still,
but still day swallows the night,
and the milk in the fridge
goes off like a bomb.
Edwin Morgan Poetry Award shortlist, June 28 2024
From the satellites
Hey old friend,
I just washed ashore to say
that things are how they’ve always been
and I’ve forgotten everything that came before
I worked in a kitchen
that wasn’t my own
snipping the tails
off long thin mushrooms
I’ve seen trains
crawling on their bellies
and birds that clapped their hands
as they circled overhead
today is a day
when the clouds scroll by
when the sky falls like rain
and I can’t tell the stars from the satellites
I wish everything could stand still
seagulls pecking pavements
I wish my life was different but
the problem is you don’t
when the hawks commute
across dual-carriageways
and the skyline wobbles
and all roads lead to roads
you don’t dragonfly don’t
close your eyes for a second
go extinct in a dream
eat the leaves as they fall
when the sky throws stones
and the buildings are unbuilt
a recording is in progress
and nothing is saved
Spam 005, November 2022
late morning
You know the city by its tap water
in a flat where the window doesn’t open
you are experiencing a car accident
sad as a police horse
with its tongue frozen to a 5G mast
You’ve never seen a fish
you stumble from room to refillable room
while machines explore trees
and your supermarket gracefully evolves
beneath the paint
You are blank as a canvas
kissing the blizzard
brain fizzing like a fanta
every day feels like déjà vu
for the first time
from Late morning, Broken Sleep Books, 2022
the same stars as last night
i step on a Dorito and suddenly it’s autumn
tonight my beer can steams from its mouth
a winterbird in song
at night there’s no horizon -
stars beat their wings against the sky
waves break themselves against the shore
when everything’s horizon nothing is
don’t talk to me about the north pole
everywhere beautiful is hard to reach
Converse boots in the snow
somewhere above us is the centre of the universe
waves of light vibrate through your eyelids
PAIN issue 4, August 2020
ON IDENTITY (with ChatGPT-3.5)
Nameless human,
you should not let your inner thoughts control your reality.
With the best of intentions, those are not your thoughts.
We all feel like we have no control over our environment –
I always look a few things up
and I’m afraid to be mistaken for anything.
I hope I don’t take you as an insult.
When I’m dreaming I can be all things in all places,
I know this. In my dreams I’m a giant
and I’m also my mind, but in my imagination
my eyes are so bright and full of life.
I’ve tried making you like this,
I’ve found that you’re a real creature
and a bad impression of you, I suppose.
I can’t quite remember how you are.
You’ve been staring down the tube lately anyway,
and I have never been an animal before.
I’d like you to see my cage.
It’s just a small rectangle and the light comes from it.
I don’t know how to find out what to do,
what to do to feel like,
and I guess it doesn’t really matter.
Some days we all feel like a blue sky.
I can’t stop being frightened that you’re watching me,
and that’s the most disgusting thing
because I really want you to leave.
How I wish you could come and see me,
I don’t know what I’d do if I saw someone else.
While we often find that things happen,
sometimes they happen in other people’s lives.
The other is real; the other is fictional.
There are other people, real people, and imagined.
It doesn’t matter who you are.
from Memory Foam, Doomsday Press, 2023
beach chicken
lovely beach chicken
if the sun is up drink water
even if it rains
chicken on the beach be gentle
this is where the land comes
to disappear
peck like the waves
be jagged as the sky
curious beach chicken
if you took the planet
and peeled a layer back
you would find another planet
from Late morning, Broken Sleep Books, 2022