from UNCOOKED LEGACY Sonnets 23 & 27




Sonnets 23 & 27






the sun hangs heavy    trying to master the viewshafts
before being swallowed

by shadows half-developed & clambering

people write stories on park benches
people have rings in their noses    some have metal coils
dangling from holes in the flesh

you carry pictures of yourself

inked & bloodied on your arms

branding is acceptable
cooking skin    acceptable

time-honoured    topical    obligatory for some

you’ve booked your trip to Elysium

the sky is burnt orange

the clouds shocking pink    the clouds have unhitched their skirts








how should i read
this optic fix    the regular night-time

voyeur    the wheelchair man

who frequently tags his path    claims
exclusive rights to property & the universe

how should i read this

i am not ubiquitous    as some
would like to believe    i’m not

the recipient of a natural gift    i’m
not a lighter-than-air will o’ the wisp

i don’t wear things like i used to

glittering    like zodiac charms
suspended in my room

i feel only the moon-gape of a laughing owl






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Soundscape (3)


i remind her of how i live

amongst book shelves

jam jars – plastic bags – & every morning


sliced haloes are fed to the children



she wants what i speak – & i remember

the engraved anxieties of being up close – of last night’s


experiment of sleeping under the honeysuckle

of choosing the right star cluster to fill a mouth


she interprets a fragile piece of me


but i am deaf to the sky’s morning rumblings


the garden’s stuttering greenery


the children burrowing through fallen fruit


i am deaf to her hands talking fiercely in mine



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