julius caesar

i am loved in two houses but do i feel alone?

kate i love you so much

what can i explain about sharing fruit and vegetables?

does it shame us?

its not the way you read

there's this girl

a friend

we call each other vegetables

and fruit

and we keep our steady distance

but we are together

when we share fruit

shades of older wonder make me doubt

our bond

but i remember loving my elders

for no good reason

participation pass poem

Do nothing but what I say:

Close your eyes

Breathe in.

Think of a colour.

See it.

Breathe out slowly

Fade to white.

Repeat

Slowly now.

Purple, blue and magenta

Like christy's statue during lent, i

was wondering:

Did you ever see the blessed virgin move?

and does that cloud your vision?

Can we now improve on this poem?

Picture the colour of derision

Now open your eyes.

Stop breathing

"BAM"

cooking Prawns

in their shells like they do in the restaurants

to keep the flavour in or maybe just allow

some added poshness and the savoir faire

of how to breakthe backs effortlessly

and chew down the slightly rubbery

gum fish mouthful that is: Prawns.

it's good to play with the sounds made in realtime

and using a rule for making up fast words is to write without stopping

for mind to catch up in the sense

knowledge that would spoil everything and so Choke and suck lemons because

its all gone astray now and the furniture

that got broke will never come back because it was burned by Gypsies I think. some

dismantlers

two cast away roe in a VW camper

licking one another's wounds

and dis antler's missing an M

so we risked all and the fall

was kind enough to happen

in old age and bad back clubbing

we agreed to fish in the morning

no rutting just fish and de-gutting

we hope. Always travelling with

no more desiring the arrival

we did good. But the scrap value

is crap and someone snipped the pump wire

silly old sods. At least the lesbian from next door

didnt overstay her underwelcome

and the dinner was grand. So...

clean slate

copper nails

beautiful

novel

not thinking in words cant write

big thinking

do nothing

and see

interactive

i dont think of anything

i dont want for much

i cant remember

and im not interested

for example,

how the words sound

and perish the thought i might say them

what they are about

how they fit

what will they do?

Nothing.

I appreciate that

and listen

any comments?

you haven't got it yet

nug is an anagram

of gnu

could throw brands and stories

sympathy and sense

but that's too easy

what will my daughter do?

and my son?

we're all the sense and meaning

we know

and we boil down

rot and vanish

like environmental toilet cleaner

thats a subject

hope to buy soil close

at a reasonable price

from a bloke i know

because i need soil.

who doesn't?

Same Old Spot

He thought: 'what a pleasure it is to be alive' as he scratched the spot on his arm

It didnt matter about the itches or the flies and it was indeed good to be alive

and it ocurred to him how fortunate we all are to have air that we can breathe

The same air over here or there and he breathed as he scratched the spot on his arm

It mattered less that drivers didnt give way to his oncoming cycle or for zebra crossings

still less was the worry of whatever list was on the kitchen side at home and to do.

As he noticed the spot on his arm was bleeding, his cycle fell in a rut and over he went,

bloodied but not yet phased in his bonhomie, he picked up the bike as a man over the road said:

"Bad luck"

And he thought to take the spot on his arm to the doctor along with his dislocated thumb.

At home the corn was high and strawberries plentiful - the fruits of his labour honouring

good living and careful attention to things he wanted to grow, unlike the spot on his arm

which grew unattended and not much loved but grew the same for it all and prospered.

Now:

You could be forgiven for speculating that this armspot was contagious and full of canker

but in truth, it was just a little spot of age. dead and without a source of blood. whitened.

Like death in small doses, an advance warning that everything would turn to dust and be gone.

So he planted lettuce and radish for an early crop in the only place left in the garden. the last spot.

Wateringly.