peeling tape from corners,
oh so muggy mists rose morning
over lens of glasses, crooked
postures painting
hides the
rot
and butter sweat’s spread thick with
blade dragged glistening
from dirt water
daily dangers swamped in sink
badly needs draining
but why bother.
welcome a whisper-
the rustle,
a fistful of feathers
released
to the ether
in ballet
of the scattered.
in the moment
there was no winner,
just backing into
corners,
where sunlight could
not reach,
and eyes would
not blink-
despite dust
hanging on each word.
this wax-eyed hour
of weak,
i’ve no appetite
for sleep,
to speak’s a reach
through scratched up screen,
watching stances
quarrel..
tangled,
flexing hot
caffeine,
man child pounds
on bar-
to rouse
alarm,
spreading fire ’round
a schoolyard war.
self-portrait hovers
crooked,
who’s yet to
notice?
railing’s
missing teeth.
last silver hairs line
carpet stairs
at foot of firepit
naps dad’s vacant chair.
slow displacing
weight,
years
pooled at my feet,
afloat atop the
puddle-
a grey teardrop
in heat,
on the cusp of
clearing
up,
chiseled
from clay sleep..
or
grief
of farewell worth
forgiving,
heart in hand,
while never knowing.
won’t
keep fish alive,
poking
after fire’s out,
stitching sunlight
into song,
under dirt,
tomorrow’s trees..
parched and
balding of their leaves,
dragging arms
from holding signs,
footprints from your bed
to mine.
refused the
kiss..
in
favour
of touchlessness,
whether upon
skin,
or of what’s
within,
i
feel
nothing..
but
blanket sky,
no guilt, no shame,
just quiet
rain
in far-off
eyes.
recounts of fractured
travels,
child’s whisper stirs
upheaval,
peering back through
chained off
shaft,
whistle warns
of fog blown white and flat-
conductor laughs.
a mess that mops up
for nobody
scribbled on slate
scenery-
bleeding over
life,
painted as whose beauty
dulls the
knife.
hands in the garden 
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