A runner sits on the hospital’s garden bench, And hears a woman battling off the hospital staff, ‘Not again,’ ‘Get off!’ All the yelling was coming from the top floor mental health ward. The runner stayed vicariously fighting restraints nonexistent to her. A butterfly stood next to her, Practicing the art of minding its own…
I Eat Swans (An Anecdote)
Like a sheepdog, I herd those away from me, in Spanish:‘Are you visiting ‘X’ today?’‘And ‘Y’ and ‘Z’ How are they?’‘The Queen died today,’ I said.My friend in Colombia told me that day.‘There are going to be memes.’They said. I went to a party; later on that week.In which coke head broke an ‘I Eat…
I’m tired.Another interview, another day.‘We need to give our emails a human touch,’Said my manager today.Recruiters and things are hard to keep up with.And that is the most human shit I can say.
With Spring coming, I can’t wait for a new start.Here is a poem from last year’s autumn. The windy weather rushed us in,Except for some daring smokers.I want to write about the fountain outside.And the waves that are forming on the water because of the breeze.I both want to lament and celebrate the end of…
I’m glad that you are a given in this household,I’m thankful I don’t have to go out there and find you.‘You don’t interrupt,’ you say.When I step in, and you are watching some old film clip.We are better perceived unproductively.
Dear phone, you aren’t there all the time. But I don’t know if that registers with you. Trees don’t produce actual shade on Google earth, And you know my mood depends on the state of the world.
One day is pizza or salad. Whether I’m relaxing or pretending. I don’t know which version of myself I want to be, but at least I’m determined to be. The other is grief or relief. Guilt over emptiness. Whatever pleases the person next to me. I tell the story however I want it to be.
On a Lazy Afternoon
On a lazy afternoon, I’m listening to the Shape Of My Heart. Funnily enough, this is the type of music that gets the old chavs at the pub talking to you. I can see it now ‘oh, where do you know this song from love?’ And I would end it there and then, saying ‘TikTok.’
As the water spills over the table, I hide my face in shame with the guilty palms that did it. The tips of my fingers massage my forehead as I try to get my head around all these particles. How do I clean them up? Well, with a mop now that they have spilled on…
The Birthday/Love Poem
The love poem I owe you on your birthday,Featuring the plants you put up on the window sillThat always inspires some kind of wacky idea for a poem to come.This time is about those plants you brought home, drunk after an after-house party.You seemed concerned and said to me:‘I have rescued them; they haven’t even…