Arctic Summer

the daylight
in night
blinks through
the blind.
my mind
awake
yet
the clock
slumbers
in the low
digits.
no darkness,
just the edge.
nature will
hide no one
in my
arctic summer.

Lord of the Fly

Fly on the window,
scurrying up,
where do you go?
Do you even know
it's a window?

I can see a brick wall,
can you see it too?
If you broke free
would you just crash
into that wall?

When i watch you,
diptera,
I swell up inside.
What cruel god
inked your blueprint?

How you are hated
by all and sundry.
No purpose but to be
eternally confused
by invisible barriers.

Are you a hidden
metaphor for love?
Have you ever been in love?
Did your compound eyes
meet over white dog shit?

I think you heard me,
you are flying around,
buzzing.
I am hung
over.

I want to hug you,
teach you English.
Take you by the arm,
well, leg, one of,
do you have six?

We'd go somewhere nice
but i can't
i'd squish you.

his face

He knows

those eyes.
They've seen it all.
Deep set.

I'm reading Bukowski.
The words

---- fell
--------- off
------------- the
------------------ page
to be now seated across
from me
on the tube.

Everything about him
is flawed perfection.
Stoic suffering is
etched
into every pore
until they are connected
b
_y______ n
__c____ o
___a__ y
____n
like wrinkles.

His gaunt face.
Thin,
pressing,
knowing.

Elastic band weaved
around his
wedding finger.
Wrapped tight,
the tip is scarlet.
A constant reminder.

This small hunk of
granite. I feel sorry
for him. But he craves
no pity.

Lady eating an apple

Will she eat that
whole apple?
The pips, the
core, the stalk?
No!

She stuffs it
down the side of
her seat and starts
on a mint.
This she eats all.

Using the folded wrapper
she picks her teeth.

London Stories

If what we wrote
looked like what
we are
then London would
be many sad, tired
stories.

freckle

freckles are
the plottings of
life,
idiosyncratically
strewn
over the chaos
which is
face.