Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Walking - Talking

Harry’s just stolen a piano
So I’m walking in the other
Direction. Sometimes I squint
As my shoe soles – black
Tip-tap, tip-tap down
Where does the mud come
From, when there is no
rain? The sun shines when it
Feels like 3 degrees and
I’m so cold my heart might
Freeze to my coffee cup, I

Could’ve held that cup forever, but
Then – the use of a cup without my
Reflection in my shoes? Don’t, doesn’t
Match my coat the fact is I should’ve
Worn another coat.
But I’m warm when
The comfortable smack of the aroma
of the brownness of the hot cake. Brioche
with oceans of chocolate chips. And
a handful of sugar puffs. I’m really into
Sugar Puffs.


A girl with acid hair and all the essence of a small
Angry pin badge fallen from a distant-smelling t-shirt
In a mosh pit trampled by 200, is a 15-year-old’s
Self-conscious, unbroken Dr Marten’s.
I wear it,
I wear it. I wear mine with all the same wreckage you
Wear yours.


Everything on a line is here to help, if I were, say,
To put my neck on the line, hang up the washing
On a out-side washing line, drop you a line, online
Everything is online to help, not confuse.
But I saw a
Blog about men who wear tights and, I’ll be honest
Now, I do not get it “Mantyhose” There’s something
Wrong, there’s something so I complain about
Having a headache and missing the bus or some
Made up shit like that and then I sit on your chair
And eat a whole bread + butter pudding I made last
Night, wondering
How fat would I get if I only ate cake?


A girl she has fake auburn eyes to match her
Red PVC boots and lint-smelling smile. So
stressful I thought my nose started to bleed-

But it was just
Running. Because it’s
I watch a hand move to her face and hear it.
mumbles follow waters and other things
I can hear she’s crying right.
Were you that girl, I mean
Was that girl you?
And I keep thinking how she must’ve gotten
Dressed this morning, how you might use a
Mascara wand with all those tears pouring out
Like someone else’s alarm, only it’s yours and
You never realised until the morning and by that
Time everyone’s already pretty angry with you.


There I am, so I wish that I am there, with my
Whimsicality and teenage smoke-filled hot pink
Mouth. With them, with their apartheid of agelessness
And satin eyes, I am. With something in my hands
And a dent in my thigh where my keys are pressing
Through my pocket. Your cheeks burning as hard
And red as the first cigarette.
I told myself today
That I certainly don’t smoke enough (Gauloises)
Or drink enough (Scotch) to be a proper poet. But
I’m told when you’re 21 and you feel like there must
Be some exception because I’m different and

Then someone asks for your ID and
You’re just a nobody or you hold a
Book and something maybe a baby
It’s holding your own brain and seeing
That actually, it’s ugly and gross and
Surprisingly full of grey, some black
Leather hole in the wallet of a universe

Friday, October 17, 2008

You Singular

Beat. Bang heat hot one.
Lingering thing with a long long long
The beat. Beaten track thick and waiting. And waiting waiting long.
Birthday ribbon.
I am hot.
I am hot
A hot one, bang beaten beaten.
On the track been beaten, been beaten on the track repeating.

Right that right that right song that wrong.
That try that one, that one, try that on, that bang, that bang
A a a a. A one. That is A a, a. A that is one.
A one, hot. A hot that is a. A one that is one that is one.
A small a small small, is all
Only one in a hot hole crowded by croissants and hot buttered small small, is all.
Only one one in a small crowd hounded by loud and fast in a hot buttered small small.
Who, and what one own, one on own, owned by none. On own is one and only. So.

It’s longer than one long long long like the waiting and the taking of the long line of a shallow one, a. the LongLong. Thick and sweet like a long wait in a hollow beaten track.
Smack like a long call in a large hall tracked in a long tall waiting waiting waiting.
So much to say say so much with waiting closed mouth hollow. Thick and sweet like a smack in the closed hollow mouth. Hot and follow with a flit thick like the sweet of a long track that beaten track. That smack in the long, long, long so hot so hot like this like love like a long hollow hole. No no no no role it’s a right much of a long tall waiting like waiting waiting like waiting. Here here hot and small like a hollow hole, with only this waiting waiting, filling smacked in the mouth with waiting waiting. Falling waiting waiting, here waiting waiting th- waiting waiting.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

That Chair

Because there are so many
Because we are so few
And the same, and the same, and the same, and the
Same, and with a coat, the same
one without.
And this. A red hug
a bed. A red bed. Hug the bed, all red.
Except the legs.
The squashy, the the bouncy wealth.
the wealth, that bounce.
The same same same and the same big and
same big and the same and the same
big red hug.
Like the one with the coat, but without it coat.
And the same's not the red bed hug.
That's the way, facing towards
facing away
facing the same way not towards not away.
Facing in a big red
a big red bus. Small, no bus.
Amputee, four, without facing away.
Little amputee
like a hug in a haystack
not stacked.
Without the arms so the arms can't be stacked
without the stack so the stacks can't be arms
without the stack so the arms can't be arms
without the arms so the arms can't be arms
without the arms so the arms can't be stacks
stacks of arms, arms of stacks in the hug in the
haystack like an armful of hugs and an
armful of haystacks like a haystack of arms
Without the arms so the stacks can't be arms.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Walking Up Escalators

On the tube
You're one of two -
You either don't
Or you do.

Monday, July 7, 2008


Resigned from all clubs. The birds were singing thought,
all problems can be solved. Can't we falls throughout the
year. Earthquakes occur nearly stanzas. They have the same
feasts once a quarter permit me to speak my mind, i think
i could be exactly, hastings continued. That's precisely
not thought out the answer. She turned towards but suppose
i go into school and say, who sunk thick together, dish
the head, and put the sauce be a vein of nobility in the
man, after all, that t, t, thought emily· one has to it's
all very many ghosts, or else squatted down in rows beside.

Friday, July 4, 2008


The waterfall
has no
edge, no
points, and falls
into a universe
of cousins and daughters.

People you once knew.
Let it fall
uninterrupted, the first
and all of the things
that build

Dewy spirals and blades
at your feet

Sunday, June 8, 2008


This came to me...  Well, actually, it came to Tim. But I stole it.

Schmooes, abe! Morris cried. The fiddle ain't the crowded
hall before him. The uproar of his suppose you're quite
a great lady in these parts eh? now liquor, and close on the
head. 2. Pare them and representations on the subject, while
they were and the hallporter helping me up here. I say,
i thought it was very delicately done. Very delicately heard
what sounded like the mew of a kitten, just.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Green Eyes

where i keep my 
treasure -
don't tell -
locked in a black sooty

lockets, fumbling, Abba, the Cote D'Azur,
a ticket,

all there, The
Hidden within the sweating folds of my silken 
morse code it, my

rapunzel costume
sits like a trap to scare thieves away.
between my broken 
sobs; is
the call for my baby, my palms,
poured into 10 by 12.

baking sun, nor lonely moon
not for anyone's eyes.

[Again, alone, or]
fingers, coal
across my blue
eyes, my pale

velvet-streaks, run my cream
silken dress, tickle my peach
soul. Blind dark.

and it's gone,

in your feral, many arms

my chest -
treasure -
love -

through your dirty children, colour
my paper photographs, muddy
my special dresses, rip
my love letters. Parade
the streets

aside my shattered window.

in my eyes, sacrifice
i watch.

puddles around my sensible, vanilla

Saturday, April 12, 2008

Sometimes it's

glass ankles, glass
jaws, copper
kettles, warm

Tricky fingers, happy
feet, saying 
grace, eating

Rotten apples, little
toe, seen you
somewhere, making 

amazing pieces of lace, like those ladies did with their shawls wrapped around their heads. 

Sunday, April 6, 2008

My Mind: My Eclipse.

As the rain falls, it pats my pink face.
I remember that this is not the time, 
nor the place.
I hang up my weary, yellow, jacket
and my dead sunglasses.


I am not just a sweet pair of arms
nor your play thing.
But something upon which to unload
your wares, your muscle:

A hammam for sweating bodies;
A mat for muddy shoes.

Far more than being your
pretty picture.
More troublesome than a
Lone Soldier.

Greater than Love,
Greater than Sorrow.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Instances of Abbreviation and Joy - R. Rosier

Perhaps you are too 1234 for me.

Perhaps  I treat you like 5678.

Either way
you have been unified.
Uniformed, with the intricacy your

mother first dressed you with, with a tear rolling down her foundation cheek, and her hair curling with beads of salty sweat. Black and stuck in locks. Her heart racing and her shaking hands outstretched.

This is how you became.

A Minifauvinelle. April Fool.

Listening to the empty rattle of my broken breath.
Asphyxiated by the surprise that
I can't remember where I left myself.

Woken by the flicker of something laid to rest:
Watching without my eyes.
Listening to the empty rattle of my broken breath.

Someone else wears out my socks and my shoes,
not marking the pathways so
now I can't remember where I left

Tickled by a glimmer of something left - 
A nothing I can almost trace,
and still, the empty rattle of my broken breath.

I retreat to another, further twelve,
counting and counting again.
But I can't remember where I left myself.

Bright red blocks of a better living death
I hear the empty rattle of my broken breath
I can't remember where I left myself.

Friday, March 14, 2008

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, what will I be..?

One day we see that no-one is in control.
  And we shake uncontrollably,
and laugh unconvincingly
  at things that are not funny.

We take the pills.
  Take a prescription, antidote
they widen your eyes and your throat.
  And you feel your brain float.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

106. In a Station of the Metro, by Ezra Pound

It would be so stupid not to include this somewhere in my blog, as it is the single most provoking thing I've ever read, as Blake wrote in his 'Proverbs of Hell': "One Thought Fills Immensity." Here it is, that one thought...

106. In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

Ezra Pound (1884)

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

The Highest Form of Flattery

One at a time
Then both together.

The second and the minute hand
in the movement
one minute
    one second 
past twelve.  A

fragment of a movement
light reflected on a strand of hair

Rolling clouds 
   through rotting windows
pass over
    poppy fields.

as a sweet wrapper
roly-polying down the street.

Once removed
as an old puzzle.

Still belonging!
And still, 

the pieces fit together. Both together as a 

remembered child.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

And When I Was Juliet

And the end only
marked the beginning of something new
And the end only
made me realise I was a figment
And in the end
you had your head shaved
you just said

"I had to get the Romeo out of me."

At that time
I clung to the star 
I'd hung around my neck
And wished it was as easy as
shaving your head.

My lips had turned into my eyes
it sounded to me as if I were water.

The past
drifted along like a bag without its contents
blowing in the wind.

And in the end
I only really told you anything
Through the window
so you couldn't hear

It's easy to scrape
finger marks down the arms of your chair,
but it's harder to admit 
you miss being everyone's idol...

Even if you weren't.

And in the end
who was I?

And the end only 
showed me I didn't know myself.

And most of all, most of all.
The sun went to sleep
And when I woke,
I was not the star I'd planned

And in the end
I was the moon,
reflecting someone else's light.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Do What You Do

WIth my arms flung about myself, and all the wish to leave alone.
Today I sat in abandon. 
Making hearts in the sand with my hot finger tips
How I sat, in my September dress,
Just left of the summer, when the days grow longer and broader.

How he strummed his finely tuned guitar,

Hidden in two.
All the light in his eyes and his soft warm touch
And the pads on the floorboards.
The lifelessness of your sleeping corpse

Friday, February 1, 2008

A toast my 
To something we share.
Stamping in glass slippers.

Thursday, January 24, 2008


I am a 

leaf, opening up.

Like something

I am

almost saying to you.

I am the

heart murmur

like someone

who is 

too afraid to shout.

I am the

candle twinkle

because someone

blew me out.

I am that

broken window crack

I am the 

wind that whistles through.

I am a

sorry girl

with my hands behind my back.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Sincerely, Your Friend and Lover

This is just something little...

I wait for him, my stone
he makes me.

Tremble the fire against my skin
I will wait for him.

Rain drops and you are my eyes and my limbs
You draw me.
listen pathways done
he will see.

Locking your door and your heart and your fingers
resting them on your chin.

Cracking that smile but then
takes a while

Sometimes I can't see the wood for the trees
sometimes I can't hear the birds for the bees.
the birds and the bees
and the bees

Write me a letter for once, 
sign it

say something, whatever
anything you like.

Answer me.

Your friend and lover.

I can't stop the leaves falling from those trees but 

sometimes I can't see the love for the greed.
I can't show you how.
I can't see for looking
I can't see the wood for the trees.
I can't always say what I mean.

Your Friend and Lover.