He Didn’t Bite, NaPoWriMo

He was tame, if truth be told-a curtain twitching kind of fool-heartedguard dog making studies of how the othersmade their way through the humdrum.He was sturdy in routine, if not stature-nose in the paper after the Six O’clock newson the far edge of the sofa every night,inside-out sweaters on a Saturdayand passing round the basketin […]

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THE NEW NORMAL ROUTINE

  Input- daily. Early morning. Wake up to bird call and input ideas for the new day. Run. Write. Weights. Wash. Garden. Grass. Weeds. No Smoking. More Chopping. Manic. Now move indoors. Pottering. Pacing. Painting and onto poetry. Moving out again from bedroom. Old room. Once far room. Cold room, where someone died once, before […]

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WILLING TO BE WONKA

  Up and through, through colour to brighter, better, perhaps. I’m next, she says, up and over, following underfoot the man with the hat who’s had enough. Off with hats, top hats and hard hats, happy heads float through colour, dissolve, he says, into columns of colour, preconceptions passing now, no longer cornered by constricting […]

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WILLING TO BE WONKA

Day 4; National Poetry Writing Month #NaPoWriMo Up and through, through colour to brighter, better, perhaps. I’m next, she says, up and though and off, following under foot the man with the hat whose had enough, off with hats, top hats and hard hats, happy heads float through colour, dissolving all that was once dense […]

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A SEAT ON THE TRAIN

  A factory man forged in fights on streets and bars on iron clad nights and a local girl born and raised in longing, loss and dreams unglazed who crash sometimes behind the shades to drink, to fuck, to drop their blades on this desert town of dirt and dust, of cactus, crows and mounting […]

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