hot tarmac_
under my feet yesterday's heat
up from the black tar street
I'm Alive is stereo thunder
Alexa alarm doing nothing
Popes Folly
strewn the black sewed cotton
are crumpled testament
tongue of fire Africa sent
neat fold on the bottom
church step
a white duvet another under the bench
fallen clouds the sky's hope absent
sometimes the sleep sees me through
sleep sometimes seizes me in dreams
sometimes the covers are dry and warm
covers sometimes strangle and deprive
what will see us through
eyes dry after empathy
has emptied the ducts
vision will be dirty
all churches are built on hurt
granite steps are pious smooth
and as hard as hell
the thought that so many white clouds
have been dropped like Manna of
somnus
is lie where there lie
clouds cannot be heavy nature's blessed
them with lightness of being
after a night's rain.
they suffocate
suck body heat
hurry the rush to the last alter
under the rainbow a rag drag weave
into ever summer the rain on leaves
heaves away a part of the sky
onto her toffee skin in sleep
as smooth as butter pat
around the eyes alcohol good buy
Ship street smells like shit street
dried piss and vomit kebab
and a rainbow somehow drab
the broken prism is complete
in dishevelment unmeant
when rainbows crash to dirt
flat sole in the flat heat of morning
something of yesterday in the warming
thin cylinder of smoke hunts a bit of sky
the conversation is after alcohol : dry
a bench struts and planks. youth grabs
rails as if he'd sail after his smoked tabs
next him. dealer, regalia, tailor of days
fills in the gaps with another to blaze
park gate swings in many black coats
I pass , his cough, out of my throat
Sun's out sun's out
plastic frog bed is dirty
buses fetch and drop
shoppers always thirsty
bargain buster Hawaiian shirt
strains the buttons once
a lamb
now mutton
hunch in black head Sith covers
hissing curses outside cash converters
empty blanket and plastic frog
body swapped for bursting purses
page by page cloud by cloud
breath by breath
look after look
not repose or affectation
perhaps to clean
fresh barbered
something about down and out in Paris
caste amongst the cast off
in his face feed me
in his place deserted he
in his hands press disgrace
walk by walk
talk by talk
name is no-name
blame is our blame
another page of the red top turns
he burns
rest breathe swallow empty
the sky has washed
the heat away