Poems

Butter

White gold black.
Gesturing towards the east.
The world’s bread, and the text’s.
Farmlands, words that

make us think of farmlands.
What’s aspired to?
Crystal plains, pepper bushes, dairies again.

Gardens.
The poem must be at the optimum temperature.
The diaspora of

the hungry, and of the colonising allegory.
Harder, softer, between twisting

thumb and finger.
Tongue shifting gaze that strays from the plate
to your flesh-slivering shirt.

 

 

Gate

Give words an

opportunity and they’ll come through.

Add a character

S, maybe someone’s husband or a homeless

person; they

might acquire a name later, if they survive.

A reader might

come to care for or despise them (the words or

S).

The words are

like weather: with a verbal quality, not just easy

sunshine.

The more a

writer sees

or can take, the

more comes through.

The gate counts

too.

S moves through

the words, buffeted, worn at.

The herd:

hooves, horns, muzzles; S upon a fence of mare.

The writer gets

out of

the truck and

undoes the same chain or series of chains.

Rain.

Wind.

Lighting blues

the beasts’ faces.

Their hooves

move through the icing.

S a bride or a

snowman or a cake.

Error.

Ocean as park.

S as captain

approaching shore.

Let in but not

let in.

S’s double: S2.

S2 though

duplicate, more solid.

Doubleness as

shield, forcing.

Neither act.

Each line a

street, making a grid, naturally hard feet on

bitumen, cement.

Surrounds

electrified space.

S, S2 as rehearsals.

You couldn’t

put this on

stage.

Anecdotes of S

in the hills overtaken by monkeys.

Breathers.

S2 hiding,

holding.

S prays.

Why?

The secular

world buzzes at S’s head.

A plague.

S speaks: ‘I

promise.’

S2 has been

reading backwards.

Books blow

through on the wind.

S says ‘I’m a

gate.’

The word

stillness is there.

S tells of

memories newly formed of

Alphabet High.

S becomes Sal.

S2 cannot

recognise Sal and dies or becomes Z.

Words get

lost/killed in the transition or on the highway

Sal gets

an address with

its own fence.

Sal finds some

mirror writing by Z but it makes no sense to

Sal, and was

mainly made up of the letter X.

‘I drink coffee’

said Sal.

Sal reflected on

Z being dead.

‘Z was no one.’

Sal differs from

S without being aware of this.

S sounds

proliferated.

It might’ve been

like being in

a birdcage.

S sounds and L

and A sounds all at once, pale blue-coloured

vocal.

Sal lies down in

a soft biscuit, wearing their pink jumpsuit and red

tie.

Rabbits nibble

at the skirting

boards.

They appear to

be rabbits.

They wear

leather and chuff green rollies.

Words distract

from character; rabbits are characters fucking

everywhere

and easily

shocked.

A rabbit loses

its r from having it knocked against the skirting

board.

It swells into

R.

R distracts from

Sal.

R is walking to

a cupboard

saying ‘I drink

coffee’.

Beyond the set,

ads affirm R.

Sal’s unable to

get up.

Words drip

through the filter.

‘Something’s a

writer.’

‘Get out of my

bathroom’ S screams.

 

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