chasing yesterday, now can never be
morning has the
gleam of old chrome,
hedgerows
drenched with
illustrated snares
why don’t you catch
me there
amongst the
aphid dead?
undo the pages -
i won’t offer
stood up to the neck
with yesterday’s dusk
heckled by impatient
breezes,
chasing their fingerprints
i want all over
the morning of
another archive,
grey hedgerows
persist with
glistened murder
traces emerge snowdrop phantoms
edges where
voltages quicken,
hedgerows laced
with loneliness, bring
out their theatrical dead
the buds i thought were spring proceed with rust
morning brings
me no further.
hedgerows are
pure empty
no bee would fumble over
put time under
won’t this minute
be over soon?
i hate all clocks
their passion for wasting,
taking me atom by
atom
i’ve worsened thru’
daylight, only sleep
has the empire
i roam, how i
stride it well
almost submerged
from day lit self
chasing itself into
corpses
put time under
won’t this minute
be over soon?
i hate all clocks their
passion for wasting
takes me sliced atom by atom
the yellowing of old daily traces they
are submerged with older frantic
grasps that cripple with all the
pictures they hold, most are faded
now and can’t be retouched
the sum of, aren’t you the
sum of time’s dead? collateral
of what has been lived thru? a
collection of mismanaged photos
that change when gone thru
detritus of most days piling up
cellophane thin rusty wreckage
that lean disquiet against memory,
i reconsidered you once but fell
apart, so the constellations got rid
got the blank page restarted, and dropped
inch by inch, my precise precipice, all
swallows, there’s a damaged comet
trying to commit the head, thoughts are
handing out roots, such subtle anchors
i am too calendar rotted!
a borrowed someone in that same
sleepless shell, that repetition of
daylight hinders dreaming i cannot
roam with, people are too full of
teeming holes, terrible tho, i am-
crumpled down a well of my own-
where worsening is vast as a crashed
mountainside, where time unkindly
takes its time nourishing off slow grown
bones, that would be the last remaining
clue were someone to revisit