we remain fixed

heavy rain morning
we were listening to prince
you were singing ‘raspberry beret’
i correct you on a lyric
because i love your voice
and want to add to the experience
you correct me with the quinoa
because you love that meal
and want to add to the experience

love for you
to standing and hold you
a timeless pause
as the world continues spinning
and we remain fixed
holding each other
dreaming eternal


st pete missed

the car’s electrics don’t want to play
so i’m not going today
st petersburg, you will miss me, i know
and tonight i will miss your seedy glow
all the bums in williams park
out on the street after dark
looking for change, looking for a spark
looking for a fix, angling for tricks
a night on the tiles, a home without bricks
tonight i am home doing chores
st pete you have not greased my pores
i know you dream of jack kerouac and jim from the doors

coffee prize and supplies

coffee prize and coffee supplies
i am sitting there
and a friend walks in
working through some shit
by moving things around
i write it all out
it is how i fight it all out

i have been wondering on and off
about the words
about the poetry
about the length
and about the strength
of the vision

if you never have doubts
and you never want to improve
and you never pick things apart
it means you have no mind, no heart
it means there is no end because no start
suggests itself
and you will remain on the shelf
i write and i drink and i think
and i talk, and i walk
it is all part of the extended gameplay
in which i am involved
it is how my problems are solved
it is how i have evolved

the need for gloves in florida

the need for gloves in florida
people elsewhere would laugh
the temperature here is indian summer warm in england
and the guys up north chuckle
and the Windy City guys chuckle
used to standing in city winds
sucking cigarettes into frozen lungs
i get it, i used to live there too
but now i am acclimatised
now i shiver
in this piss poor excuse for a winter

kind of

i hate the rain
a no umbrella day
a walk to the library day
to drop off an overdue book
and then to the market
to wait for my ride
i wait outside
then stand typing in the rain
i meet an old lady, insane
and smiling but sad and broken
maybe some words of truth are spoken
about you, but not about me and mine
i walk away knowing you will be fine
kind of

a hand dryer mystery

there are mysteries in this bathroom
i have not located the hand dryer
i have not used the urinal because of this
using the cubicle instead
but the must be a hand dryer
because someone was using it

my bag beside me
avocado chips atop it
guava energy drink
and other purchases
and my phone
waiting on a message

what a thing to write of
a bathroom trip
and idiocy
a failed quest
a limping odyssey