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




Friday, 6 June 2014

Un-dark strait

It was like a wave had
turned to tar
and got stuck in the stones
half set
something from the future
only I could see it
dripping down into the earth
further than I can see
a triangle of tourists
ignored us
the sun catching this thing
shining too much
for my eyes


Tuesday, 3 June 2014

Whitecross Street

We look after our widows

and stairwells

and walkways see

people know around here

through broken stained glass

purple and brown are close

in this grey

when does the music start

there are candles so it’s evening