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

                        another

                        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