The Whole Hole

The whole hole, a doom laden pit; the weight of which bent our backs until we crawled about following blindly the buttocks in front. In saving ourselves we carved and sliced and chopped; doling the whole in wholly unique holes.  Holes forming groves and dents and hidden dips. Containers for puddles and ponds and murky pools. Some yet carried the weight and bent double, toppled; threw themselves in. Only you can’t become the inside only the out. And you just cannot will yourself around a hole you’re in.  My whole is tied in string, meshed in wire and pearled in knitted wool; carved into shutters, nailed under floors and bound in the words of my holy book. In the beginning I religiously cupped my hands to my face and drank it in. On dark nights, as the outside of a quart of shine, naked in my old boots, with the wind in my toes and the dirt firmly under my right heal, those little holes inside, together, grow whole old memories and push out joyous tears of our past hollow.

Unsatisfied Order

your golden plate
of tasty plump jewels –
our empty bellies

Autumn Dawns

red lights rippen
through back-road morning mist –
frosty tomatoes

Reflection of a Dead Dragonfly

As winter is upon us and
The heavy duvet togs me down
Warm, away from the frosty world
I look back to warmer days.
Finding only a long dead Dragonfly
Gripping still his cold and once
Most favourite perch above the mire.

Early Autumn

soft black berry
hidden amongst the red –
thorn in my finger

Off-course

shy birdsong among
silent cherry blossoms –
seagulls on the lawn

Seasons Captured

green lawns dotted
in bees and fallen blossom –
bite of an apple

Too Thick

ten to a micron
a million lines of code
streaming at two thirds c

the eternity
of this morning wasted
jammed by my fat head

Written History

terrible poems
names on the toilet door –
some of them are yours

Politipping

money changers
and common market breakers –
alternative votes
the colour of a slightly
used banana skins