MAJOR ARCANA: THE EMPEROR

Dear Mother,

Just now I took
scissor and razor to my head
sheared off father's beard
snipped off your luscious curls
you'd be proud of the growth
free of the bristles I'm one
smooth dude. I hope you don't mind
I borrowed your blue eyeshadow
gave myself Mariana Trench eyes
I noosed on your crimson lipstick,
concealed each pock and sully
I made and gave myself up, my twin
went out for a little crime, a chance fuck
bound in black chord, spanked within
an inch of my redness. There was no
love here mind,

At last, I am truly unbound
you might call freedom chaos
I'd tend to agree

MAJOR ARCANA: THE HIGH PRIESTESS

Dear lover,

Wake up. You've fallen asleep
in the sea again, can you not
hear the plaintive cry of gulls
overhead? the moon pools
at your feet.

Sleep now. you've woken
in the badlands of our time
the candles have burned
themselves down, what need
have we of candles? screens
light our visions, speakers
bloom in our ears, let us speed
brainward, before
we lose our connection 

there is nothing but drama
where every speech cracks
under its own beauty, we
harden to the sublime
de-sensitise
what a time to be alive
Surrender, we are going under

I do not get your tricks,
And I did not ask for mystery
You speak in silence





Screens dog your vision
Speakers rile your ear
fruit rots on the vine
bide your time now
till the point of stagnation
we like to take it slow

the world is too much sometimes
this is one of those



the water models itself
in a fairy fire

MAJOR ARCANA: THE EMPRESS

Dear Mother,

Why do you not return my calls?
I grow weak.
my bones ache from your distance
I coil the cables around me like an umbilical
knit myself a duvet and curl into it
I feel the electricity hum within
scattered around my room
I explore my nooks and crannies, craters, lumps and bumps
my body grows more like the moon than ever
barren and unreachable, come closer o moon
let me feel your pull
let me sway like the tide
let me lose myself in you

MAJOR ARCANA: THE MAGICIAN

Dear Lover,

I am ensnared by confusion
pulled between earth and air
I lengthen in the sun. When
you have a mo, please
bring the secateurs.

I have stared at this beer
until it lost its sparkle
I watch my bread go stale
one can live too long in his cups
con himself that all things move for him alone
I stared at my hand until another force
might make it move the way the world moves
and for the longest time
nothing moved
but then 
a fly settled on the table
and remained noon till night
I have done nothing with my life

lucky nothing bad has happened lately
sadly nothing has happened
sober as a judge the court lies empty
banging my gavel I order myself to work
The jury remains out,
out of session and sorts

MAJOR ARCANA: HANGED MAN

Dear Lover,

There is a another
way, shards weld
into stained glass
the colour of morning
has come together
in a sense of blue

You'll be glad to know,
on guilt's ever-extending rack
I've straightened myself out
I do not want for anything now

Life comes to me slowly
the soft drip of a leaky tap
that, prior, would ever keep me up
for endless nights
has filled the bath and I bathe,
sink my head, go right into it
the world ripples under breath

MAJOR ARCANA: THE FOOL

“Diogenes lived in a tub, yet he was happier than all the kings of the earth.”
“Your Diogenes was a blockhead,” said Ivan Dmitritch morosely.
Anton Chekhov, Ward No.6


Dear Mother,

for a while now
I’ve had my bags packed
but I have nowhere to go
the whisper on the wind
calls to me, a plaintive song
but changes so   very often
I'm blown in every direction

I'm high again in this tower block
Up here, there is no true North
the compass spins like a clock
I have travelled a hundred routes
ringing the room, wearing out
the carpet with my circle work

I tripped on a travel guide,
on my boots I broke my toe
I've lost my passport again
perhaps I’m better off at home


I grow weary watching the world,
clip my own wings
and fall miserably on the bed
the day dripping from my nose
O woe, such pity. There are paths
that open up
only in dream,
that close on waking
do you worry? don't worry
must dash,

MAJOR ARCANA: THE LOVERS

Dear Mother,

I followed my heart
and they made me eat it
our long journey reached
its messy end,
Mine begins again
I wander lonely as a cloud
and now, nothing but rain

My passion is quenched
with wine, with tepid beer
dolorous, I am in the doldrums
my sails are like my cock: limp.

Small pleasures, they left me
with the cat who appears
glad of my sadness, bringing me
small gifts: a tuft of bird brain,
ribbons of artery, intestinal lace,
I look to my ring's shadow
bitterness coils in me,
so much wasted time

Give me vibrato, give me
duende, slippery
slippery songs to drown in
inside the bower the birds sing
I lay down a mean green python
to wind its way up the trunk
nature's gods are small and spiteful
today, I know the feeling

MAJOR ARCANA: THE MOON

Dear Mother,

The garden party was a disaster!
the day was fine, poured wine
endless plates of amuse-bouche
even brayed conversations
about men work women,
what it means to be living people
well, what does it mean to be people?
there is no question
but the night! O the night!
a gale broke into the garden
everything exploded, my eyes burst,
a hurricane of colour
broke over our rabble
you could not tell a person
from the dahlias, a poodle
was swallowed by a laurel bush,
have you ever heard a yowling hedge?
our lobster dinner hung off the moon
like a monstrous earring
God, a man with an
orchid for a head, whispered
vainly as his hands
stubborn vines that --
Ahh! the beaded light, I wore
a necklace
of black suns

In all honesty mama, I left
with oil on my hands
And a fire behind

FOREST FIRES

After all these years
knowing little else
in my clickaswitch life
of the previous centuries
and their homemade light
let there be a lesson
on the end
of this ice-pick evening

there is still the knife-flick
of suspense, catching
the breath as it turns:
inward to out, head held over
ember like a full-fat moon
tickling a forest of kindling
the newspaper tinder:
Image: a blitzed Yemen,
the torn head of a yellow lion
and written in blue Helvetica,
Bijou river views,
reduced to 700k
we're not reading anymore
so now blow slow
coax out the fire song
containing no word, no tune,
just the gentle rush
of things coming together

the gang tower over, shuffling
in their boots, like tall ash
in strong winds, striking
loose jokes: is it getting hot out here?
what are you whispering?
viewed from their great height
scrutinising this small fire
growing into the village
spread gently across the land

the flame lifts off
the wood lets the light in
catching on thorn and bristle,
and when it really takes off
and I mean really,
the rush and snap, inhaling
like a newborn
with baby's first breath.
Our faces are lit,
haunted, red

LIKE TONIGHT THE PLEASURE JET IS STOWED

Granddad said the stablemen are all gone
sorry gramps, you were wrong
for tonight at rest I pat the nose
of this pleasure jet stowed
in a hanger with all the lights out
it just sits there warm in the dark a huge hulk
the presence of speed and gleaming power
quiet as a stable full of sleeping horses
I snort smoke and return to my polishing

POEM MACHINE

Inside this coat I am the incinerator
letters and bits of word strung
from sinew and wetted nerve
the smoke is thick; stings
the throat - sweats the eye
my brutish light roars.
You, daft blue and cold, crawl in
like the silliest Hansel
you crawl in and dance a fine ash
where there was the whitest white
now smoulders a charred whisp

Inside these shoes I am two pistons
pressing out letters, sheets of words
stamped in endless repeat
cobbled bits from deep earth
the slabs - flat and clean
my loud steam toot-toots
you red and round roll in
like the greenest of apples
you roll in and smash your atoms
where once you were great fat
now a slew of marrow and pulp

Inside this hat I am the wailing skillet
searing chunks of letter, wad of word
consuming all in front of me
cold iron untill spit red and scream
stink of fat - smoke plumes
yes,  Whistling work
you wide eye and rude
head on over to see the fuss
fall right in, eyebrows, nose, the lot
cooked before anyone knew you gone
a severed head, plated and ate