landscrape

that grass-roots feeling of loss

that cliched unsaid unfinished shiz

that heart-worm burial

that digging notion of things gone wrong

the unfixable memory convoy that won’t leave and parades up and down my mind

aisles and the corridor’s tight and the squeezing march grates on the sides and drags

me down with it

that corn fed turd that is you

a handprint on my psyche

a snow angel on my lawn

Flame of Consciousness

Stretching out ahead

Vast narrow wind

Stringy path – goat tracked

Grass matted like my hair at the back when I can’t be bothered to comb.

Poke holes in soil

Dampness

Dew in the morning on the “washing” line

Granted

I’m an adder, swishing through, coiling up

Slow worm

Slow wyrm

A letter and I have wings and claws and

legend gold

Fear inciter (twisted)

Blowing up bin-breath

Antisocial hoarder of things that mean different to me.

A magpie value

Scrooge McDuck Dragon whip my tail and yawn, as you creep past me

Heart pounds

My great yellow eye pierces your body,

Drop in fear and I make you dance, twirling dolly with scaled fingers,

Black glinting talon twirls.

Scar in the lair – you can be Rowan Atkinson’s blue bird

Swell the city

Flowers on a black background

draped over

streamers

climbers

creepers

wound around the stump

pouring out of pallet crates

apple box wood, dainty blues, glitter yellows

one plant with many flowers

buds and vines encircle

take back the city for yourself

wind through cobble cracks

decorate the station and the hands of the people

crown loved one’s dainty heads

drip out of pub windows

make the street a swollen stream of petals

yellow darlings work away