the unknowable transforming point 81/ 85

433 little poems
fictive autobiographical gazing
through the piano looking glass

Delude prelude

Your so deluded in the past alert
delude prelude conclude
could get rhyming couplet
but what’s the sense in that
it’s off road
off limits
invent as we go

A short hello

Giggles in the street echo echo
distances and central heating noises
swish swish through the long red radiator
birds tweet question and answering
quietly getting dusky in the trees
making ready for end of a long day
if I was to meet her in the street
I could just refuse to take any notice
or pass quietly with a short hello
in high pitch almost inaudible tone
and quick busy walk on stroll on
then that never happened
not like before
with that sense of excruciating insecureness
of having to like me like me drink me
seeing the rabbit and casserole
slow cook before my time had come
scrub scrub and fill the washer
time for the next bit and incredible edible woman again
where in the corner what did she do

It’s sussurating

Riki volkane
please find that book I sent you
2 years have gone by
and it’s where
lent you some cd’s too
where did that incredible piano one go
gorgeous go
got better once I got it off my case
get it off your case
and point in point
points on the railway
click click click clack clack
it it clicks
soulfully he slowly dark descends
and lowers the hit of radiation by some
yet darker we go into deep crenelations
till falling must fall over
it’s getting to that when it’s greying and dull
and I would need light to carry on
but it is susurrating
what bel mot

Back up again

It’s a birthday and dark smell
some lilac beginning to blossom top and tall
someone walked by all the way to the bottom of the hill
and back up again
tour of the street in the cold rain
back to the window playing chopin nocturne
and uneven time spaces
so many five against four
and always too overwrought with the feeling of sitting
exposure of playing the music
luckily just flowed by some good fortune
worry worry no time to practise worry worry
screaming she at me to stop the noise
but now never look back
don’t look up
down to the side
listen to where the hurt goes in slow silent
with soft shoes left at the door
so so steps sleeping and softer than snow
and turn turn the tide turns
in the silent communications stretching for miles
at a time
at a pulse to be reckoned with inevitable force
just luck would have it the drizzle cake was so bitter
and the pounce of taste left it’s inksmell

The dog

There’s a place for us
pretty folded napkins soft with age and press
from the press
the cupboard by the fire roaring grannie’s fire
where would she be in that cold forsaken wind without the roar
she scuttle and old sailor looking out
to see horizon and turbulent waves
poised near the red new deep rug
luxurious in post war with clean woven shine
the dog would see to it though
years later rolled up in front of the gas fire
like a ball of cream wool stuff
sniff bark at the drop of a hat
and soft growling dreaming
rub scrub on the left a little bit bare
so it was never the same
but grannie had died years ago
so the dog was queen



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