Poem

I STARTED TO WANT

I wanted to start

but instead I dug a small pit

around my tongue, that’s

which I tripped down.

Where I wanted to say was, you lay

by the hedgerow I had dug a hole

and moved it closer

with the tip of your lane.

What if it rains, or chills out? Then

I’d want to be of some good, I’ll just

hold on for you your contact lenses,

just not with my butterfingerslips,

tips - oh not that that matters chaps - but

with a compromise spectacle quarried uh

from crystalline contradiction you beheld

behind the lips of your arse & your irises.

Chips is fine, do they do

going back and being a good person.

Everywhere we go there are

railway stations, could we do you think

be trains or oopses or suicidal ideation?

What I should have said to you that night

was sublation. "Sublation spectacle." Be

warned I think there

might be an insect whose

interests intersect with those

of this pub although. Give bird by

the hedgerow