(poem ending on Newtown graffiti)
If I do not join       clouds       my attempts

of song hit       the roof       line without wings

my effort but       she’s crying       conversation

leaks damage       & not alone I swig orange       sun ahead of

rain it figures       your life planes cuts       across trails

spans aerials       I am less arrival than       anxiety in a breath

causation       would be a       good thing

if I could       make it       happen light it

up my hand       breathe smoke back       its direction

I could discuss theme tunes       to my beating       hands on skin

day or being       of itself       flashed on lines

away from my city vertigo       & self-regard       what’s the point of

sadness among tax cuts       fine tasting licks       the behind trade

mustering its dirty love       a steep roof       leans on night

dusk drift & haloes       lane smells of a toilet       slow brakes

sex jolt joy       armsful of pain       I was excuses tipping

arguments onto       tongue       kisses complaint

give myself up       actions loudest       when softest walls

rung out       their papers dry       blind transparent pushed

‘smell like Blood       Bones &       Diamonds’