a slow slide downwards
along a regular curve
it is summer very early morning
and that means nothing
all the yellows look cold
and so all the blues are warm
the solitary child gathers on the horizon
and moves backwards into the middle present
the past is a perfect (blue) parabola
but the future has been mended to prevent collapse
this is a model of always
what holds it up is invisible and to one side
maybe someone else can explain it
the blue car
a Ford Thunderbird
hits the bump and catapults
it is suspended in mid-air
the river remains in front
as the town remains to disappear behind
the child has gathered
all of created nature on his shirt
it was the bicycle that saved the world
doing wheelies on hard concrete to an ignoring public.
reading left to right we are going to end
either with or without an ice cream
he watches as his own car circles by
Homo noos the ghost man is coming from the mountains
announcing our becoming
in the early morning before we are awake
his feet fixed to his skis with parcel tape
the boy holds a fragment of the wall
he has punched a hole to look through
it is the right day and his face is smiling
decorated with cream eggs flour blood and dust
the silence has been digitally remastered
on the bus a Kekulé ring ignites one foot
it takes a committee to fail to second guess this structure
good Christian folks with a tube of glue
nobody chooses to write about this image
I am a system my name is Jiam Jayor
I will return your correspondence unread
a scrap of orange silk sellotaped to the lamp-post
look into the dragon’s mouth
perhaps there is a dawn chorus of singing caterpillars
the sky is blue behind the picnic tables
maybe caterpillars sing all day
and perhaps you hadn’t noticed
there is brightness just before the darkness falls
the walls are white the masks are white
the head has been torn off the man
who tried to hide behind a pillar
I do not wish to end on a rhyme or half-rhyme