SEQUEL

for GJ

It has to be better in every way.
Massive, with more
explosions. Your masterpiece.

However, if that applies any pressure,
u can relax.
The third 1s expected to be shit.

IN PRAISE OF COMICS

for GJ

If I could write comics
and not poems,
I would terrify you
with pictures of zombies
tearing the flesh
from the bones of children.
A post-apocalyptic wilderness
peopled with mutants
and the struggle of a man
and his daughter to survive.

I would write in black and white
on black and white pictures.
I would learn
how to do a woodcut print.
Everything I drew would be relief.

Sometimes I think I'm a superhero
and one giant leap
into the sky will change
the world for good.
Sometimes my adamantium skeleton
bends against the page.
Sometimes I am Flash Gordon.

I did not draw the final showdown.
I did not draw Doc Holiday's gun
or the robot's stare.
I did not draw the flesh wound
or the fatal graze. I did not frame it.
The artery was busy being art.

SLEEP

or FOR HARPER

for HF, SF and HF

Sleep is what you do,
what you've done,
what you've did.

And when you are held
you are asleep.

Strange, to be born asleep
to be asleep
to sleep.

One day you will wake.
One day you will open your eyes
and hands.

One day you will not be asleep.
Your eyes and hands will open.
Your mouth will open.

Then you will not be asleep.

SPRING WOULD BE GOOD

for JMG

I would like to stop coughing now
and for Spring to arrive. Spring
would be good. A cough free Spring.
Imagine never coughing. Never
blowing a dandelion clock clean
or never going to the beach.

I think it will rain some more
then it might snow. Then hail.
This is Spring coming on like a roll
of thunder. The sand raked with waves.
All that winter is in your West
and you are waking up like a Limpet.

BUNNY, DARLING!

for BC

Bunny, darling! You simply can't
tell me it's a prima facie
observation of domestic violence.
The man was loops; it's a grotesque.
And nobody will tell me what I can
or cannot laugh at in a theatre.

Bunny, darling! I don't care
if Hugh Jackman sings delightful
and the lyric's magical.
It isn't canon. It's not the repertoire.
It's not the repertoire, sweety.

Bunny, darling! Don't you dare
pretend you didn't squeal
when the "ugly brothers" licked
their hands and stuck them
down their shorts. Bunny,
Bunny! Don't you dare pretend!

Bunny, darling! If you need a shoulder,
mine will be in the third row
of the matinee performance.
Look for the purple salwar kameez,
the scent of Chloe in the dust,
and I will hold you Bunny,
darling, I'll bring tissues.


Now with soundcloud here: Soundcloud

ROCK

You did pillow talk,

keeping your voices low

so the kids couldn't hear

the sex. There was none.

No breaking of your vows

of silence. Doris Day,

marvelling at your straightened pinkie,

was in on the joke.

Nobody heard the sex.

In the darkness and the silvered hush

hands, fumbling under shirts

and projections, find a gasp.

Denim, forced tight, springs open

like a man trap. I have never felt

such excitement. The man in front

says keep it down, but we've come

and it is all over the screen.

BOOK JOY

for JB

Saddleworth Mystery Sand
Armour Clad Rust
Sisters of Silver Creek Cerulean
Critical Cousins Basketball
Seven Golden Keys Clay

The Bell Buoy Floral Design
On Honour's Roll Sage
Hazard and Heroism Fern
"News of the World" Almanac Mint

THE FAMOUS JOKE

after QC

I don't like peas
and I'm glad I don't like peas
because if I liked them I'd eat them
and I hate peas.

SNOW HUNT

for AA

I realised the pheasant tracks were crazier

than how I'd stepped. They riduculed the snow

with flight attempts and panic. My husband

and I walked with crooked arms, shotguns

slung over our elpits like footballer's wives

did handbags. We had banned mobile phones.

Somehow a shot has sprung me; see my fleck

upon the virginal and the dead carcass.

THE WINFREY EFFECT

for DS, MR and CH

Lance yer cancer survivor
did what yer did
to win and yer never

ever cared for yer winnings
only yer competitors
and yer charity

and yer went on Oprah
to say yer lied
but nobody believed yer

Yuss'l probably ascend to heaven
like shit off a shovel
at an angle of forty–five degrees

Yuss'l probably have a star
or a space–station
named after yer

Yuss'l probably find yerself
on the Hollywood walk of fame
now that yer famous


Now available in audio here: Click Here for Soundcloud Recording

WEST GORTON GHOST TOWN

for RB

These streets still have names; Wenlock Way, Lloyd Walk,

Basechurch Walk, Skarratt Close. White boards; windows,

doors. Cars from Safeguarding Children over the road.

A bus stop. A fifteen storey tower block with satellite.

I wrote this on the internet: modern archaeology.

Three Police Community Support Officers (PCSOs).

Google maps; faces blurred, anonymised, a dog,

a child in a pink coat with her hand raised. One click; 

they separate like ghosts. All of them are gone.

THEY EAT HORSES, DON'T THEY?

or THE NEIGH-SAYERS
or MR. ED BURGERS
or HORSE SHIT 

for TC, SJ and JM-G

1. 

Horse meat is the culinary name for meat
cut from a horse. It is a major meat

in only a few countries, but it forms
a significant part of the culinary traditions

of others. It is slightly sweet, tender, low in fat
and high in protein. In the late Paleolithic era

wild horses formed an important source of food.
Horse meat was also eaten as part of Germanic

pagan religious ceremonies in northern Europe
particularly associated with the worship of Odin

2.

France dates its taste for horse meat
to the Revolution. Just as hairdressers and tailors

set themselves up to serve commoners, the horses
maintained by aristocracy as a sign of prestige

ended up alleviating the hunger of the lower classes.
It was during the Napoleonic campaigns

when the surgeon-in-chief of Napoleon's grand army,
Dominique-Jean Larrey, served horse as a soup.

In Aspern–Essling, cut from the supply lines,
the cavalry used the horses' breastplates  

as cooking pots and gunpowder as seasoning.
In 1866 the French government legalised horse meat.

3.

It is a taboo in some English speaking countries.
It is a taboo amongst the Romani people and in Brazil.

Horse meat is not generally eaten in Spain (except in the North)
Horse meat is forbidden by Jewish dietary laws.

In the past horse meat has been eaten by Persians, Turks, Hanafi and Tartars,
but it has never been eaten in the Maghreb.

Popes Gregory III and Zachary instructed Saint Boniface
to forbid the eating of horsemeat to those he converted.

Despite the Anglophone taboo, horse meat was eaten in Britain,
especially in Yorkshire, until the 1930's and in times of post-war shortage.

4.

Beef (63%), Onion (10%), 
Wheat Flour, Water, Beef Fat,
Soya Protein Isolate, Salt,
Onion Powder, Yeast, Sugar, Barley Malt Extract,
Garlic Powder, White Pepper Extract,
Celery Extract, Onion Extract. Horse.

TASTING NOTES

CHABLIS 2009

Fresh and pure, this vibrant
Chablis has aromas of green
apples and blanched nuts,

with a taut yet softly rounded
mouthfeel. Such a refined, 
food-friendly style is typical

of this northern French
wine region, famous for its
fresh climate and limestone

clay soils. The Union
des Viticulteurs de Chablis
is a respected producer

from the region and winemaker
Bertrand Cherel has produced
an outstanding wine from 

the local Chardonnay vines 
in a highly rated vintage.
Enjoy it with a platter

of fresh seafood or cod
in beurre blanc sauce.

SOME THINGS I HAD, NEVER KNEW, NEVER HAD

for J M-G

I gave him the best ten years I'd ever have
in me. Thought he'd be gone in five,
but he kept at it like a metronome.
The headboard knocking on the guest room wall
told no lie. Every night he'd slither in
beside me. A butterknife of cold skin
and a papery skeleton that still hungered.
He never stopped with that, right up
to the last like a lovesick teen.
Mostly I'd lie patient as a corpse. I never
told him I loved him. I never loved him
more than money. I lived a decade
just to feel it. So, if you think my story's crass,
imagine yourself, ten year worth of nights
counting the colours in the ceiling pattern
on your back, imagining things you never knew
you'd had. Tell me, could you imagine that?

THE LONG ROAD TO KENTUCKY

for GR

It was a long road back to Kentucky
and I did not know the landscape,
if it was all scuffed, mud-frost fields
with the occasional white clapboard church
or if it was oil towns. I do not know the States,
by capital and flag. Some gasoline was drumming
round the trunk and I was filled with hatred.
I'd heard the Bible belt was tight here,
heard that blacks and fags still swung from rope.
I tuned the radio to catch the sermons
between the static. This was Leviticus
and I was nervous. There is no religion.
The sunlight is wide and unforgiving,
no shadows, no soul that hides, no man in the sky
to shout his truths. Just us. Let us be reconciled. 
And here I was, in God's own country, alive.

SIAMESE

for AA

two tails
heads rolled from a neck
turned fur into six
eight four legs
heads two three eyes
blended two four
bellies and backs
reticulating arched single
spine splits a helix
under pelt
fur fur entwined

FUN THINGS TO DO WHEN YOU'RE THIRTEEN

The first time I came
I was faking
myself into thinking
I'd come,
but all I had done
was shudder
the way I had seen them do
in the movies
and imagined
a white slick of spunk
on the magazine.

Later, I became obsessed with guns.
Every summer seemed to get wetter.
I became obsessed with guns.

WORK FOR THE OLD BILL: AN ELEGY

for RB

I was pleased to see DCI Jack Meadows
find regular work on The Street,

Glad the Dales had provided a home
for PC Leon Taylor and Sgt June Ackland.

DS Phil Hunter has gone undercover
in London's East End,

But I would not go to Waterloo Road
to find the newly promoted Dale Smith,

And what of the missing and unemployed?
Where DC Mickey Webb? Where WPC Polly Page?

CID? How do you spell that then?
Reg Hollis nearly killed himself.


Written with recourse to my new favourite wiki: The Bill Wiki

Sound recording here: Soundcloud

INVADING CAT

for NT

is sitting on the wall outside the kitchen window
then makes a leap across the path and hits said window,
sinks like a stone and looks astonished.

Sheer indignation before turning around and walking away
with as much dignity as he could muster.

JANUARY MYSTERY

for the Boyles

Most of my socks and underwear,
a large hoodie and a pair of pyjama bottoms (both mine),
4 muslin squares (Samuel's)
and a large stuffed rat from IKEA (Ellis'),
a penknife of Mark's and a wooden spoon.

ROAD

A wide straight dirt road that stretched

in each direction. A pillar of haze

in the distance and cuffs of dust

that burst underfoot. By nightfall the road

had narrowed to two lanes of cobble

reflecting streaks of full moon in a tumble

of willow branch. The stone grazed the skin

on my soles. By dawn, my toes had sliced open

to the bone and the road had thinned

to a gilded sliver of wooden walkways

that climbed up from the river basin

and into the canopy. I found firm ground again

when the pine board gave out to water

polished concrete at the summit.

From here on the steps fell through grassland

that flattened out into savannah and broadened

into a dirt road that was wide and straight.

ODE TO THE ANTIQUE WASHSTAND IN THE GUEST BEDROOM

for AA

A Playstation One,
golf balls, Nokia 6210,
two condoms, a sewing kit,
the seventh Harry Potter novel,
two credit cards, an ethernet cable,
about £2.50 in sterling and Euros,
travel Jenga, From Russia With Love on DVD
and twenty million safety pins.

TRANSCIENCE FICTIONORMATIONS

for AA

Aminotranscience fictionerases catalysed an unexpected
moment of miscience fictionielding on the crease
in the Nottinghamshire town of Manscience fictionield.

Jarscience fictionul of cider consumed before playing
were blamed for the dyscience fictionunctional wicketkeeper's
sudden lurch left at a right swinging miscience fictionire.

The townscience fictionolk were flabbergasted the bowler's
miscience fictionortunate slip of the finger had spilled
satiscience fictionyingly long for a bye for the batters.

Later the club patrescience fictionamilias were fretful
as doctors at Nottingham General transcience fictionused,
triggering biotranscience fictionormations in the suffering flesh.

A LETTER FROM THE BBC

I got a letter from the BBC
to vanish a million pounds
in an unmarked manila envelope
that smelled of tobacco.

To vanish a million pounds
you need the Piff Paff Puff
that smelled of tobacco
blown in a cloud of Phoenix dust.

You need the Piff Paff Puff
and the breath of dragons
blown in a cloud of Phoenix dust
to distract the public gaze.

And the breath of dragons
engulfed Wood Lane in fire
to distract the public gaze
from the horse drawn hearse.

Engulfed Wood Lane in fire,
splinters of ash kicked off hooves
from the horse drawn hearse
that crackled into the night.

Splinters of ash kicked off hooves
fly and fade like burnt memos
that crackled into the night
becoming darkness and silence.

Fly and fade like burnt memos
in an umarked manilla envelope
becoming darkness and silence,
I got a letter from the BBC.