these are the mad journeys

that I would like to get out

of the way
a short note from my dead mother reminding me

not to urinate like a dog
the platform at Richmond Station without train

and in-between delays
seaweed in a brown plastic bag
potato cakes MADE IN TUNISIA & other

beautiful maps
the yellow tablecloth and a birthday twice a year

and caravan holiday
building a nebulous tin-shed on the hill of a

manifesto.
an original text
ignoring the messenger bird & citizen fish
masturbating into my 4th journal, later finding

the kitchen of this religion
standing back like a history for people with no

memory
watching journalism in TV
hiding b/w two seperate rooms
the unwrapped clubfoot and this beautiful

abattoir of mind
losing my father’s sadness to the taxman
swimming beyond the gorgeous detours of flesh

and finding an empty bottle of Pepsi
the maintenance of petroleum islands
a dead September sea
and 46 other questions.