THIS WAY UP:

Yeah,
Walking in new shoes,
White van parked by the side of the road,
Singing falsetto,
Lights on like a bull,
Fluorescent glances,
Waiting in doorways,
Red,
White,
And Blue,

Keep the fingers warm,
We might need them

(Listening to Goran Kajfeš Subtrobic Arkestra – ‘The Reson Why’)

(K)

WE MOVED THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER:

The drifters leave in dirty shoes,
Hands hung by their sides,
Slow walk,
Beneath a new look,
Leave before the party starts,
Missing all the best songs,

Love starts early,
Finishes late,
Last minute cancellations,
Telephones ringing,
Ones & zeros,
Hello,
Good morning,
Plays to an obsession,
A long one in Blue,
Clutching cancellations

(K)

WE DROPPED OUR HANDS:

Dressed in Black,
Skin like powdered snow,
Raised towards the sky,
Bouncing the sun with delicate fingers,
Reaching for change,
Collecting tin foil,
Re-discovered lost,
Living the dream

(K)

LIVING THE DREAM:

If you’re going to have tonic water you need Orange,
Or Lemon,
Or something,
What’s tonic water?
Is it just water with bubbles?

Are we going to have a fight?
I can’t have more than two fights in a row,
Thank you

(K)

I SAID:

“Ok, what about everything with something?”
Free advice,
“Your girlfriend look amazing”

You don’y get any government subsidy,
You don’t get any elephants,
You get pianos in shorts,

Sometimes I walk straighter than you get,
Flicking through the news,
Capturing air in boxes,
The flow,
The seat in the corner,
The regret,
The building of bridges

(K)

THE WAITRESS IS A MOON IN THE COCKTAIL BAR:

The DJ is a muscle,
The Sky is painted,
The words are in a different place,

(K)

SHE SAYS HIS NAME & WAVES:

Then starts to levitate,
Happy,
Her feet illuminated for the hard of hearing,
All those who got in late,
Whose planes were delayed,
Whilst we were walking through the city at night,
Following trails of minimal music,
And broken glass,
As waitresses cleared the debris of another art crowd

(K)

THE LUMBERJACK IS IN THE GARDEN:

The garden is made of glass,
The chairs are made of bamboo,
The bamboo hangs from the sky,
The sky is made of leaves,
The 1960’s

(K)

MY BROTHER LOST:

His father,
His hand on my shoulder in the morning,
Makes me smile,
Kind transmission,
Tears of joy,
And everything is ok

(K)

THERE WAS A LUMBERJACK IN THE LIFT THIS MORNING:

A giant man,
Out of place,
Surrounded by chrome & mirrors,
Dropping forks & knives,
Fists in pockets,
In apology,
Reminds me of cousin Tim,
Who lived in a forest with his dogs,
And guns,
And mowing machines,
Generating power from an old marine diesel,
Concealed in a garden shed,
Where is he now?

I call the last phone number I have for him,
Every few months,
Like I know his mom would want,
He never answers,
She’s gone now,
I miss her,
Transformed into a magpie,

The lumberjack leaves the lift,
Head hung silent,
Heads for breakfast,
Everything tiny,
Stupid,
Doll-like,
Comparison to his frame & fists,
I want to apologise,
But don’t,
He doesn’t seem to mind

(K)