#288 - in the busy book

7.x.20

288

in the busy book

 

a doodle at the day

find me

(not proving a thing)

but hard at the oars

and a little sky polish

spit and

I worm a way as well    or ferret 

thick with the secret readers

who’ll never show themselves

 

of course there are stray calculations

and much of a to-do

 

choosing titles

a fabric

dragging out an old truth

or just the image flog

 

I take the storm for telling

and sleep it off in here

 

in the busy book

one is becoming a force of nature

where else can it be done?

 

still have to cover all the angles

scratch roof

and through the walls

 

throw me to the questions

 

cross writing

read between

see the deeps in   

 

and fill the whole room

with heart with hope

 

the garden

and old book

known by whiff

go blind

come never twice the same

take seasons to it home for a keepsake

(where such things are not attempted)

 

seldom break a sweat

sometimes come as far as I can go

 

of course where no one’s ever been

but aint it all familiar?

 

busy me with I’ll say devilry

hands over

and coasting out of fuel

a wicked waste of conversation

 

there’s nothing to prove in here

 

one day I’ll be discovered

long gone, not missed

 

they’ll think ‘thank gods its over

he was never going to shut up …

now we can get on’

 

in the busy book

they are singing a moon

for a first time up

come down in the last shower

 

it’s tin and thunder for a home there

though must you call it humpy?

 

one dots up at a later date

to show explorers’ routes

 

are breezes but you’ll find no broom

do all come under erasure?

 

no, I choose immortality

and number it in days

overwhelm the world

as far as the forward estimates

 

one goes quotational at times

much quippery

thrash theory out before it takes

deictic!

all the here with and before

 

things, weather and trick them along

 

a godlessness to raw invent

 

bliss myself

often with ponder

 

along this path come and tell me

have you been as well?

 

I know you are my creature

though cannot draw but wonder till

we are complete

and bare the soul to none such

 

fools rush in to blather

 

there are several anathemae

 

and all of this before

we even

come for the colouring in 

#287 - two poems - spring whiff & solar dog

 

6.x.20

287

spring whiff

 

loud as the orange blossom

and the moon past full

a ding!

 

and trips us

 

bright stars

frogs of a telling

 

rain is a little prayer

for all fall

 

who will keep the count?

 

come in the

round

round

as all of these voices

and never one twice the same

 

                   

 

solar dog and so on 

 

for Daniel Ionita

 

I sing the whim electric

quod erat demonstrandum

 

today I am inventing the mobile solar collector

(with personality, with attitude)…

practically you may think of it as a battery on wheels

 

like the lawnmower, like the vacuum cleaner

it scoots about nobly questing

(garden or conservatory)

and this one gathers the sun

(may hunt in a pack, herd or coven)

nights come together

roost in a bank

and power our every whim

 

begin with the silent servant idea

it mows, it sweeps, it cleans

it sings

 

by little wheels like feet dash

hither and yon

and why not legs?

and lift them?

why not a tail?

 

I’m making mine a dog

(choose any breed or mongrel)

comes when called

or you could whistle

all self powered

self drive of course

no remote required

… it knows

by sniff

 

and why stop there?

the solar bird’s perfect for cloudy days

soars high

and later homes

 

a multitude perhaps

(batteries like the one in your watch)

 

economies of scale!

consider the solar beetle

(oops goes over)

consider the ant

(thermal power too!)

 

unfortunately our prototype dog

takes its genes too seriously

will run at pond or mire and roll

(might as well have a solar pig)

 

this may cloud the panels

then you’ll have to get them licked

or wait for what comes down

in the next shower

 

still the solar dog

can bury all the bones and dig

and with the right programming

could fetch in the paper

turn things on by nose

draw your sledge across the Antarctic summer

 

tomorrow I’ll be inventing

a cat

(start from scratch)

 

it may yet chase the solar birds

but they’re a later rollout

anyway we can make them faster

or taste bad or spiky

 

solar cat can do your nails

take off rough skin

licks itself clean

makes fur balls

purrs

but can’t be bothered storing

 

it uses all of the power in the sun

just to lap up the freshest of cream

the un-bucket list, reprised from Project 366

 Kit Kelen #1320 - the un-bucket list

1320

the un-bucket list

the tightwire

high dive

firewalk

I’m not pinning on the lion’s tail

won’t be me goes for the gallop

balloon trip

base jump

no shark dive

I’m not going in the volcano

I won’t drive a locomotive

I won’t fly a plane

heat of the front line battle

and there are certain books

lion’s den

viper’s pit

crawl under the barbed wire to freedom

don’t want to be in parliament either

casual teaching

no need to learn to chainsaw

dive in a cave

go under the ice

all power to spies

risking their lives

defending what must be the truth

I’ll take truth every time

no dare!

I won’t be taking

the diving bell

Everest ascent

there’s barely a beast

I’d take by the horns

I will not ride the tiger

Lands End to Thurso

by whatever means?

it won’t be me that you’ll see

and I won’t fire the gun

play whist

I won’t inspire belief

consort with major criminals

fence goods, sing like canary

it’s not for me

to declare the war

dare the devil

do or die

won’t throttle the bike at high speed

much less dance on the whirlwind

let me skip steep ski slopes

may lightning never strike me

despite some messianic moments

I won’t be resurrected

issue fatwas

wear the black cloth cap

won’t weave carpet

mend motor

play rugby union

I can’t bear to watch

if I can avoid

helicopter, hospital

injections, suppositories

castor oil, cod liver

brains, black pudding

anything too big to swallow

a simple somersault

…

then I’ll a happy man

happy to list

any hazardous occupation

more generally, there’s work

I’ve found almost all paid employment sucks

shaving’s something I won’t do

also moonshot

Marswalk

the whole of the bottle at the one sitting

and magic?

no sawing assistants in half

I won’t even start an old religion

I’ll try not to cast the first stone

no hunger strikes

no beauty pageants

trophies on the wall

I’m not going after big game

these are things not on my post-its

no magnet holds them to my fridge

I guess I must lack aspiration

to be writing out these lines

I shall not descend into the maelstrom

I must not dive for pearls

I don’t care how much grease you’ve got

I’m reluctant to go down the pole

I will not swim the Channel

I won’t climb a tree  

though I see the cat’s up there

and often I’ve been put to task

certain piles I dare not excavate

clichés lived and not to challenge

I’ll take my critique just so far

I couldn’t wean myself off rhyme

I’ll never catch a kangaroo

and gladly, no one wants me to

perhaps I’ll never show them

but I can live with that

I’ll never see every inch of Australia

I may yet throw a pot on a wheel

compose and even dance a jig

find some cheap bauble words to steal

certainly I’d give a fig

for leafy genitalia

and yet

these things don’t make my to-do

they may raise a knowing smile

I never was a fan of reason

mildness

delicate decorum  

I cannot promise not to pun

there’s much attending I won’t list

for instance, taken as read

brush my teeth and make my bed

I won’t say any prayers

though I am ever wishful still

and hope to go on listing

give me the beachwalk

the garden

my yoga

the chocolate

(hot/cold taps)

sunshine to catch

an evening snifter

these tales by the fire

fine food and friends

never say never they say

but still

it’s cosy here

tucked up in bed

still passion’s slave

when roused

full of beans

ideas just get better

and death?

I was never brave enough

so let’s give it a miss

… if you’ll just cosy up beside

I’ll settle for a kiss

#286 - there IS a conspiracy

 

5.x.20

286

there is a conspiracy

 

you bold it, up the font

 

wink nudge for boys

they will be

as with mother’s milk

(which powder will conspire against)

 

it’s fungible – your fear

 

take nudge wink men

will say

grow with the disease

(what does not kill me…)

 

say we love…

make great

fill in the blank

 

here, have yourself a forever

(delicious)

 

unflinch

cock this

and in the nightsight

fake a moon to land

(there are many)

fill your veins with pulse

aliens size up

 

there is a conspiracy of songbirds

 

a murder of judges

and so-called war

(I don’t believe and you can’t make me)

 

this is the Land of … repeat after me

have you noticed the market?

 

conspiracy of the willing numb

bring on industry

shake

pour on and over

sprinkle with these

it kills ‘em all real fast

 

every other conspired against

creature, I mean, of course

 

there’s hunger

and whoever died of that?

I wrestle Descartes’ demon down

 

they want things back

a share

same rights

 

but know not the promised skin?

this God is mine

bend knees

 

in the tiny hamlet of Overfeeding

here is privilege denied

(as in the whiteness of a theft)

and

so say all is ours

and

so say all is ours

 

there is a conspiracy of flags, of anthems

there is a trafficking of maps

all words look foreign to me

 

it’s always a certain suburb you hear crackling

something severe – the overnight blaze

a knife down a drain grate

 

breeze washes clean

 

from out of the bowl

a crocodile snap

 

the good old boys drinking

 

sometimes see the overlapping worlds

mostly nothing to say

 

Earth’s round in every direction  

though some will say a little pear shaped

and no one’s looked under to check

 

I was just explaining my language 

so utterly betrayed

 

ending it

they call

cough up

 

who will dare say otherwise now?

probably you won’t have noticed

sudden ache of loss come on

      just when

glory shines around