Friday, 12 December 2014

a last fold

flesh gateway
deep nova
berry hearts




flame array



Sunday, 30 November 2014

Wrong Element

I'd rather I didn't know
but seeing as I do
I could avoid
staying up all night
so tomorrow will still be
when the stage is
the safest place
and real life isn't a loan
I watch boiling water splashing my hand
I should have felt
and think about people
born in the strongest heat
to ever cool down
they will fire closing my eyes
to the sun
redder realistic red
spat reality
fighting for the exit
we've abandoned searching
by day trips into
run home in darkness
fearing headlights
got you now
there are machines
berserk for one more
broken into splintered into
the yes you were fed
falls out of the mouth
with tomorrow's breath
the hiss scratchy heat
and anything
that didn't get out the way
in time
undigested I will serve you
or take their thinnest offering
fighting to get out
the support lie before
it's split
by informing agents
whispering repeat warnings
to the weakest
from outside
no, I can't see them either
but a scream dies
as aiming for exit
released when
the earth is fighting for
alone with it
I take what's left
it tells me nothing
call it melodrama
eyelash clenched between
the teeth
don't blink
or fear the tongue lapping
for sense exchange tasting tears
if there's a pause
someone might ask me a question
what's your favourite colour
then go back to where you're from
means something different
every time
alright alright
try carving into my head
some sort of average
of knowing what you know
as if youth or belief
were on my side
tell me how you
get so high
tell me how you
get so high
and green flashes
deceptively think it's a fake
we really really paid for what
I decide is my own reality
get in the queue
do what you have to
follow follow
economy bitches
bitch get in line
wheel out the slam dancers
it's what you do, right
suddenly aware
just because they like
what I like
not the same
how do I advertise that
and bolting myself in
there's skin and blood
on the wall
where you say
you'll leave your number
rite of passage
passages and spotlights
on the pull frantic
the opposites aren't even
this is where I'll stay
where I'm from
sleeves dragged all the way
what's written under the cover
syrup tear drop trapped
and creatures that mate
for life
medieval style
hunt out the witches
where are you from
take me there
always skidding sea light
and oil cans
routes of escape
made too hot
made comfortably sick
lick the back of my name
then tangle it
not quite tight
enough to cut circulation
down the line of
a hobble skirt
grafted inside an asylum
dig deep burdock root
lashed to
remember the words
tell me what to do
how it feels
make it easy
I'm there now
I'm there
I'm there
I'm there now
there now
someone moves to block the light
face front
the outer coating seems to hold
too much meaning
bought a ticket for
the time tunnel
crashing off the century
there are not many
excuses left for being
a performance artist
when do we start and
when do we finish
pick up your feet
that'll do
reprinted T-shirts on our backs
who were we
made in England's
dreaming of something
not that different
yeah, yeah
but in dreams
I do it better
and say I understand
all the crossfire
from one mouth
mosquitoed into tube trains
where everyone looks
like an alien or
an animal
or an alien animal
whose reflected eyes
are store rooms
of me
of us
standing out
and fitting in
nothing means anything


in cradles of
no shadow
day will come
through stone
grey rivals
who belong
chain to chain
we shall rise
sun dials
ancient amber
if we stop
and look for
night veil
you believe
we escape
ride my eyes
of tidal music
if I say
shore light
through windows
the truth

Wednesday, 22 October 2014

We Trinity

Nothing was clean in the way washing makes something respectable.

A twist of my hair hangs above my bed, swaying occasionally even though silence tightly sealed the room.

There were reports the next day of a woman found seated in an un-furnished room; a shoe made of crocodile leather swinging from her toe. I saw myself rake her thigh with my nails and feel her shoulder for strength. I lift her hair; it will carry on growing. A man was on the floor beside her, a vein cut, he died looking up at her. Ribbons of each other's flesh ringed round their hands. He is fading, used up the last vein. He and she. I. What I can see has folds, is emptying. Under my fingernails and the rims of my eyes swell.

From inside my room feels a completely different shape to the space it must fit into a house. From outside square set right angles, impossibly correct perspective calculated for the reassurance of glass eyes. Draw using a straight edge never chance the hand. Fight it. Even if that means metalwork hands raised to heaven; I am between and my fingers between metal fingers, my palm to metal palm. This will hurt me more. Engine oil is the sanitized way they will describe what a woman left on the machinery when they found her inside a room furnished like the inside of a human body, but she’d already gone out.

Some things need to be culled.

Let me describe the metal – pewter with the discipline of iron dark in the creases, faultless, unbreakable; welded above the elbows to the arms of my chair. All we do is hold hands.

There’s a trickly brown saccharine trail to a book on a chair in the un-furnished room for mourners to queue and sign. Look I don’t want sympathy. I wanted it. I knew what I was doing. I knew what would happen. At least he gave everything so I would never want more. I gave and he gave and I gave until he decided the end and the end was also for him. But you just cut flowers so beauty dies by slow starvation.

Cinnamon vapour lives there now.

Did you see how that insect behaved? He looked at me like an equal, rectangle, bronze, small fast wings barely attached; and the sound is it the air replacing his wings or? Then his attention was on something I couldn’t see. And the rats more rats, working, preparing, there are more looking straight at me and something beyond. They have work to do. Don’t try and tell me nothing’s happening.

A youth sits on the steps of the criminal defence lawyer’s office, his head in his hands. His girl standing, watching. She walks away down a side street. His hands drop, I don’t know what he sees.

A leaf stack shivers. It’s talling. In every gap between brickwork, it’s only brickwork, a leaf stack always could drop. Shivering. Talling. Every gap the same leaf stack. Loud shivering. Falling leaves are normal. Louder. This is normal. Leaf stack. It’s normal. Everywhere. Shivering. Louder falling. Leaf stack. The same. Normal. Shivering. Leaf stack.

Maybe it got dark.

Just as light changes for a second by doorways my room feels like someone’s here before me. A very slight heat as if from breath raises every surface and falls in the way of a heart. My lock of hair has grown down to the bed now parting into limbs still growing then twine desperate as life or death. It slows languid and the hair has taken the form of a man and woman. Tension and relaxation as the strands spread over the spectral figures overlapping and stretching until my bed is a rippling sea of hair. Sighing quickens as the movements shallow into smoothness which contracts into the shape of a man and woman again. They lie still as two ropes of hair grow then coil round my wrists. They pull me down between them.



Tuesday, 14 October 2014


On the site of growling threats

weapons and armour torn

from where skin has healed

us together

made adolescent again

by burst mains

and overdrive

I didn't stand a chance



Monday, 29 September 2014

Dungeness Autumn Equinox

These days when we pay highly
just for a roof
floor boards track
another beach
power guarder and
more sky sparks than names
try to rest the truth gently
riding the eye on lighthouse beams
and a block of concrete
awake with pastel glitter
we were awake too
and the truth is
day will come
if you believe in that
we should rise also
beach and garden switch
desert and ice flats
how will I say this
edible colour

Greyly almost texture
the concrete night veil
has gone
now we have to listen
the same veil changes
to a hum
with tidal music
and us
turning to a stripe
of reflector red
shall we dance in cradles of
imagining cut feet
if our souls are so young
they break
offering strings pulled from
night to day
stretched along wood
and arm shapes to slow
the meeting of a beat
keep moving
if we stop now
will the torch go out
behind ancient amber
that's how I understand it
silvering water
forces me to look away
to concrete and a danger sign.

Padlocked chain to chain
am I allowed to walk around
or place a stone
where I think there's a gap
something delicate always seems able
to grow out of rock
I don't know what belongs here
or if I can take this home
wartime defences and pieces of
storm wood I'd call them
sun dials with the shadow
gone missing
curled up inside a boat
inside her open casket
autumn beach house
stuck with everything had a use
and a car that doesn't go
so we plan the next escape
and leave this house painted black
like I always feel safer in
my leather jacket
he left sunburst yellow frames
have we come to look
through windows?

Monday, 1 September 2014

Standing - Specimen by Map 71

Words - Lisa Jayne
Drums and Synths - Andy Pyne
You can listen to us on

The Clearing

By some miracle day slept

or she let us watch

inside our eyelids

the hospital bed in a film

really in the wood

just reminds me of a film

wrought ivy

that came later at home

but it fits

somehow cloth houses were enough

for my subliminal cat

to lean on the emergency door

we are the music

and something to hang from

just by the shadow tips

he said he’d tie her up

but softer than the ground

on my back

and front not yet

as if the woods need blessing

white super circle raworth

what did he give me


gathering the colours of hurricane

against a weekend

mud what I done last night

and lingering ammonia if I forget

to wait while I move

ten minutes long

that sharp one bug sighted

he slanted himself

accented as well

dry in the nest wet

runs off a long lash

find me the opener

we sat there and knew each other

we’d always known each other



Monday, 18 August 2014

As Glass

can we drink with the illusion of sundown downcast then ecstatic she was French you know that makes it sound more elegant until I’ve unfolded enough to fill the whole room but be transparent wet silk like bat’s wings

well-constructed inky gaze in a silent movie the bird shadow looks closer to a strangling glove drawn towards my tunnel of breath and a carving on my temporal bone bad wired and stretch that contradiction of secret lights so it seems like you read it in dust

my wall of heroes just stare while we get hysterical over an embrace broken nine years ago after talk of Theda and Chainsaw and every celestial savage watch me 2am fake blue lacquered black

some colours just pretend for nylon tombstones mass produced in a set with eye patch spiders waiting at the station mislaid but I really really do need you now can I get away with saying the moon’s open too wide

she’s on replay down the hall too many creeps fixed me alright and I think of her running away when he said whatever all our favourite bands had it wasn’t musical talent

dream sequences give me no right to a broken heart my sack of doubts wait like a sleeping inferno

yesterday I found winter before the last complete rose ended as swollen hips in August somewhere neglected I like going with bare legs bitten by life living off what they can get

our eyes were fixed on the butterfly on his shoulder gently straining her wings for helpless colour as he walked towards the electric fence there is no time for something millions the same until the sea touches naively called water

physical and smashed the wrong size for stable movement to live like a perfume eater her senses doubled until there was only a one second charge freezing the surface so I see it always diaryed as a needle of light gouged into a stone made look soft like a human opening no one sees in polite conversation

in repulsion I admit it repulsion made me put her down as if splashing around in natural electricity could kill or touching internal trauma might infect

the sun dries and she is a stone with interesting damage not fit for exhibition life or didn’t wake up the tide knows cover


don’t start
road safe
yellow metal
get closer
made rain
secret alive
in shade
next time
you’ll be
people die
all the time
lights change
angle to be
cuts twilight
burning off
an outline
my footprints
this space
will not
this heat
do you
mean sing
time has
lost us
this time
turn round
crowd like
from one
earth cry
tracing under
her skin

Tuesday, 22 July 2014


confused everyone wants to be blond they think things will happen easily but all I feel is nausea when I see this year’s fluorescents sweat comes and my clothes feel like a living thing should that not have happened the sound of mental failings argue with music please music will be provided and poured over ice
one moon stares at four clouds that night sleep was my friend travelling home in time for mad storm cycles I touched the sea don’t move the sky parted like sheet metal doors crashed flashing violet and silver gashes was that a dream
he’d been wrapped in heavy duty tape standing for most of the operation just a parting for his breath to give and take encased they lifted him onto a bench and bound his feet so only the toes could move there was another on a parallel bench hospital height nothing can be done how long were they behind the curtain no one knew
human bats fettered made the backdrop laced into latex only one shade exists the tone altered slightly it’s surprizing how much torn lace weighs and my symmetrical metal worked in opposition surely heat by now ice is wrong if I melt before we’re issued with boiler suits 100% concealing and one way glass over the face
Livonia has a reservation her false face drops into her hands after the wires were cut no blood just a power fizz as the machine burnt out strange how shattered mirror smells like burning skin
all I can hear are the foot prints of a very small rodent only recognised later when I see them and the hands that stopped as we arrived moving again if we leave I saw you there yeah you exist violently tearing out the pages wanting everything to end
there’s laughter outside and a year’s worth of rain fell in one drop you should have been more careful with your emotions die now I think he said thank-you and let me stand touch close unusually docile for a place like that where eyes are long and crack from over looking at something you wish made sense
a technician came with shears I expect to see a corpse open but two live men skins patterned for war rose from the table the closest I’ve ever seen to man flying the human bats waver moaning clear with veins live forever a lost time piece breaks under my foot I collect the pieces and post them to my birth place
lightning was trapped in the drink I left alone for a moment I had the feeling of my lips and tongue being stitched as I drank the liquid darkening clouds remained in the glass friction will occur sub-aqua everything can be explained now devices are invented to record and translate down until we understand even my face in the mirror can’t be trusted
plaster of paris heats as it hardens mustn’t inhale eternal visions of that strain of fern who grew from rocks born before day and night passed so quickly there were orchids changing
strapped in so the lower limbs have to rest and fat was used for survival all that remains is ivory cyanide cubes are handed round and shrouded forms take that other poison the one that bleeds through the skin for better effect
cancers swarm senseless into flames spitting victory I’ve waited a long time who’s the master here

Wednesday, 9 July 2014

Red Mass

Out of isolation trip the ex-goddess screams like holy relief now she knows there is no god in the workhouse with witchy Ellen she hand marks the walls and smiles her arse cheeks at anyone who can’t stand her face they think it’s the moon getting brighter but no it was only someone sparking the light while the wall irons shoulder it like a marriage and the blackbird flies corner to corner berry blood wet on his beak

we’ll leave our leathers off for this one and call the waif home with her cheekbones that cut whatever you want to a shag stamp on her neck in this room speaks a giant language now there’s three of them one with mad young skin dead leaves gone copper on the live side the blackbird whips them to a shiver cut to an ex-goddess throat but she’s only acting and spits blood alive from her belly now everyone needs feeding the waif is first to the table lies her back down and uncrosses her girdle now the bolts are drawn and the play can truly begin

blackbird drops her a still-beating heart and she bites like she’s never eaten before throwing scraps to the men whose tankards beat down tasty rhythms come over here cherub don’t call me cherub the wall irons need turning so blackbird cleans berry blood off his claws with a lizard tongue he’s grown for the night

ghosts are awake the wall irons hiss it’s a shame Maria didn’t make it no one’s seen her since May but we’re here in this workhouse for witchy Ellen to slow wailing caverns now she’s made bones strong holding irons a mouth salty red and lick scented she shakes herself out as she pleases death watch beetle out on a stag his fur coat makes him look rich crawls over the piano for a feeler around he’s alright just his owner is lethal a dealer in sighing morgue organs

a touch of the old one his tree roots make cracks in the floor and eel round the room a fine perch for blackbird he’s our lordy pulls our heads open route open witchy Ellen and ex-goddess draw out let’s call it a vévé though the waif says it’s strappy end up Billy and laughs when death watch drops his own signing their work then he has her turn over and signs himself again on her back.


Thursday, 19 June 2014


Jasmine that’s pale enough
to hazard mild effect
now blushing has become subversive
events can be re-ordered
to save myself exposure
so I appeal from moving traffic
what’s ten minutes
if a one piece covers me
this time
soon I’ll be out of colours and style
perhaps before boredom begins
memory enters the scene
a third person
I don’t remember you
before disturbing me
in the third floor
cut corner window
revealing functional line and shade
wasted on artists
who muscle the best
fantasy version
why does invisibility only occur
when watch me
it is sickness and hurting
like the way she only uses
the word cunt
in Lolita dressed desperation
tame for once
she is small noise
wearing white in London
she moves like a blitz witness
who can say
a premonition can’t fix the future


Sunday, 15 June 2014


A lot was possible between me and the barricades, in that diffused concrete daylight. I hadn’t been wearing black long enough for it to fade. In a precinct after everywhere had shut I let a chancer in a second hand suit touch me up; no more than anatomy lessons on a bench one side of a hexagon.

6.30, on their territory; I’d passed some sort of initiation, was allowed in. Some were wearing T-shirts with the names of people I hadn’t heard of yet. The resistance who couldn’t keep a secret.

There was a sculpture made of plastic that would never quite set. You could smell it slowly re-shaping itself feeding off our dead skin and hair. The sound of beckoning anger in that empty curve; crouching electricity waiting for one of us to turn something on.

She was a face to hate and as easy to recognise; as barcodes gained value one side of the line was distorting. There was a feeling it was the last of anything new and reaction was shot with purity.

Our fuel didn’t come with instructions, it was alright to be thin but alright wasn’t enough; we wanted to make the biggest noise, be the baddest fright. Synthetically made-up and dyed, scaring people was my best defence.

I didn’t know I was doing deconstruction. There were no accidents.



Tuesday, 10 June 2014

East End Fare

Either way the day’s too hot for nylons

makes the best of a can of lager

her legs in a twist

on a hay bail

she needs sun glasses

and wants another drink

saxy ascend

unwinds her swaying

as the sun drops

into the brass

these are not the boys of summer

who scissored around me

every sound bleeds for attention

how we stay cool

in all our uniforms

heat dust attracting black