40 Feet

By and | 1 August 2014

ten minutes having Everything again asleep in the chair
let’s think of this being
at the cough edge of space
in the grand tradition of double acts
you and I Steven
something many would
not even call pornography

& soaked
in wave
after wave of kerb water from a bastard bus
miniature emperor arrives at Gatwick

already I am back, looking to see if I regret
my first
poems, that is the nature of anger
new subject matter:
we could become, but they would notice
if there are reading at all
on giants, on grief
on the sad chance of a meeting the second
when you barely have begun the first
there are giants of regret
taking sheep & goat in their hands
mashed bones a dead hippie in a jungle
plane crash minced into one matter
a lost love you know died starving
& without you loveless furious
holding the busham
before slamming a human head
into a brassbarrail & being lucky
it didn’t crack its brain like a giant’s egg
an angry thief made up of hate steals
milks soothes flat finger bones
wood a natures graves for babies Russian
soft in the looking up light, hurting piled

I’ll heal you by thinking about you

counting down the allotted
heartbeats still most of everything
t o g o
the new young Joseph Buys
to wrap in automatic
Tasmanian honey and kitchen roll

when we were better, getting on in
a one legged horse allowed to live
dragging itself across sand
for competition and then the electronic
list of the missing
broke our hearts
now everything’s big, everybody’s mother
is bluer than blue, whiter than white
privileged as a dip in the car thief fame and muscling up
for money
sounds like a good deal to me
when I’ve become wealthy
I’m bound to be calmest
said a Giant, currently fashionable
if the screaming doesn’t end by sunday
we’ll call a doctor, said the elephant
fresh through the ice
sea lined marrow of fish
of misinformation cleared like paraded
grounded I’m welcome
I don’t want to know

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