– Have you ever seen this stone in the chemist's shops, the beautiful and transparent one, from which they
Kindle fire?
– Do you mean the burning-glass?
G-clamped parabolas reach out with poise
into the constant low-range stink of un-sewn sky
an open seam of fleeting sense
the hitherto
and unswapped code
raise(s) compatibility issues:
how can you get a Mortality Pang so early in the day
with nothing (un)achieved or as yet undone
hauling as if weightless a laden reminiscence into view
the unexpected deep-reaching lymph of regret
sadness pulls to the left
splits the day's harsh fluviality
wide open
twilit rehashed overlays press dawn light
to walls poured from creased tins of authentic space rubble
wilting roller blinds leant squeeze box bellows shot and left for dead
in the midst of this
I shed the skin of sleep
and unable to face the tangible discomfort of city travel
somehow remain within the platform's
flat fag butt fleck
of bum-sucked stubble highpoints
on the un-cultivatable dull-stained asphalt slab
poured once (only) into this shape it holds
and from which there is little or no escape
I'm going to be late for work
for the rest of my life
no more able to pump up the tyres of the urban cycle
to shake off the dangling offshoots of temperament
of irrefutable coarseness
yet overwhelmed on the collective stalk to the stairwell
by YA suits OTG in clever shoes
authenticity seekers with laptop satchels
ploughing through and appropriating
pre-Autumn which says the stationer's window
Is a season of ideas
the tram's bagpipe brakes heave a brazen fart across the waking world