THE WORLD IT RISES

It was a time of rising 

Heat rose from the earth

Stone gushed like butter

Air rose from the green

flies swam in its rot 

Cold rose from the dust

Sculpted the waters in place 

World sat, full of itself 

Man broke from his womb prison

Fell screaming, foetal stupid

Fell through the earth, growing

Fell into this poem, diminished

Count the rings of his age

BUFO BUFO

Swallower of they who rot,

overtly ripe yourself 

fat prince of the pond

in a kingdom of mud

cold white fat sweats

down your ballooned rump 

or you're hidden flat 

pebbledashed, army green

wriggling over the reeds 

croak in the fizzing dusk

old trunk of hollow wood

jaw opens wide as a tent,

pegged for any juicy morsel

I've seen you mating in a pond

wind up plastic toys of yourselves

the sound of crows; deathbirds

caught in the snouts of randy pigs

DREAMS OF NAZIS

Dreams of nazis, cute little blonde boys

In little tin hats, promenading Kreuzberg

On a bright spring morning

And from strong jawlines utter

Words like "hey you" with mock winks

Presenting their guard dog pugs

And other eugenics gone wrong

Leads taut in their hands

And elder men in leather

With cartoon skulls, shiny silver bones

Holding babies in luminous Spreepark

The disorientating noise of funfare

As night is coming on

ENDS OF THE EARTH

To escape the image 

The memories

 that are like scratching at sores

I run to the ends of the earth

I’ve made it, i crack open a beer

And prop my feet up in a deckchair 

And presently fall from my seat

As the song you used to tease me with

Comes on the bar radio, it’s quiet at first

Workable, until some bastard asks to turn it up

And I fall a little deeper in 

DOCK PORTRAIT

He doddered on the docks

Like a one-winged gull, checking

Himself and heading back to where

He began, forgetting a trinket 

Or a small box, it was a wonder 

If he made it onto the long tail

I had him at seventy,

 but the scour lines on his craggy face

Like a rough sketch could place him 

Anywhere past 50. 

BETWEEN TWO BLUES

From a beach crammed with bodies
pink sausages, frying in a pan
follow a set of footprints
slowly being erased
toes into heel,
toes into heel

Follow the leaving tide
tickling calloused feet
sand loose and cold as snow
a body of cold violence
needles prick ankles
knees chest head
prick the size of a needle
shaking all thought loose
body cold violence
'dear jesus christ shit'
floating in cold space
slowly, being is erased

Then, break
kicking crawling
further and further
following the leaving tide
cutting through crest
falling through trough
till the waves break
ridges flatten out
Then, breathe

Now, out here
it's just you
and the horizon —
the fine white line
between two blues