Bird black eyes follow me dot to dot to dot. Unfurl heaven feathers in a real place, clipped to bodies with quick-paced hearts that live a short but lofty lifetime.
Snow-studded sycamore with a bird in, with a brain in, with a soul in.
How lucky are we with souls in the trees above us and the air around,
with souls in the soil beneath us and the flesh among us.
These words are just clicks and squeaks and growls, telling you I want you.
This keyboard and the one on my phone are sticks in a termite hill, are feathers in my tail, and what I really want is for us to grab each other and bond and fuck for a few years, maybe longer, if you like.
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
Dew in the morning on the “washing” line
I’m an adder, swishing through, coiling up
A letter and I have wings and claws and
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
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