DEATH MACHINE (11/5/1995)
A bank in summer A ripped underwear page A magazine of lists Things making noiseBridge like tread of shoe Hangs over them Tatty rope, him on the end SwingingNote: I like the simplicity of this. It...
View ArticleAND WE WILL (5/9/1992)
Playing colours on the beautiful lawn, and every lawn that is beautiful is perpetually contemplating the inside of the bull's fake head.Fury of spent vocals; Talk around morsels; a dearth of speech....
View ArticleTHE THIRTEENTH (13/10/1992)
Once you've lit it, don't go back To the town of age. Women strangle storks, One with an eyepatch, One in a musical landscape. Tribes of gendarmes, Gripping, cheap and funky, Stroll the streets of...
View ArticleA DISAGREEABLE PAINTER (7/9/1991)
They sat in tractors at night Waiting for a whistle all night Then came around Took his door like a paper craneAlthough he was sometimes very squinty Although he was sometimes very squinty His eyes...
View ArticleSYJZWBITCNPQFNFHOUHNT (29/5/1992)
Since your jump, Zoos went bust. Itchy tigers cough, Never pausing. Quiet flowers Now fear horticulturists. Of variety, Have no terror.Note: I include this one as it's an example of me doing some...
View ArticleANIMALS 2 (Why Animals Should be Kept off Furniture) (17/12/1991)
Because they're hairy And they shit on it.
View ArticleONE (to be performed through loud hailer) (20/11/1991)
You come like steam When the sun weaves The sky into girders.Unpacking like china, We touch into waiting silence: A warm black sound That cheats the sun.Note: Probably my favourite out of everything...
View ArticleMy favourite thing I wrote in 2007
I do a lot of computer programming, watching DVDs and so forth. But I have a lot of passion for writing. I write a lot of poetry. I know it's not fashionable, but I still do it, whenever the mood takes...
View ArticleGulliver 2007-06-20
When he washed up, magnificent, we brought in timber, nails and rope to build a frame about his bones; we strapped his arms, his feet, his neck, afraid he might lay out his sex to pissupon our town. By...
View Articlebunkers
open-armed to woollen thumps outside we are a brocade of grimy buttons below grinning stairs, fed on mushroomsthe klaxons were your breasts when we lived on you, when we used to park our bicycles...
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