Poems

The haughty tortoiseshell cat with a neckerchief of shining plastic gold
taps his way over weeds and roses alike
he doesn't know any different.

His simple mistress with plain wooden beads around her neck
covers her feet in rubber
she knows the pain of vicious plants.

The gardener with holed trousers, joyous heart and spray in hand
tuts at them both.

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Once there was a donkey
who lived for the sea
his master the man with the hat and jingling bag of coins
would plop children on the donkey's back and shoo shoo him along
the donkey could often be found at night under the free range sky staring at running glistening crabs
wishing he was free to run too.

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Lonely Mr Plainer held up a picture of his daughter to the bare blazing light bulb
he was looking for her heart.

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Late Night Poetry

Like I was laying my best baby boy in his cot
I carefully set down small brave young flowers
into the moistness of my fertile garden
their weakness
their innocence
making my empty breasts
heave

I then watered them
from my love filled eyes
and fed them meat
from the angry plains between my fuck fine thighs.


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I heard his voice
and sucked it in
like the dying gasping fish

His words
lay on my tongue
and then opening up
I swallowed them whole
one by one
Till I couldn't take no more
but I could
So here's my mouth
fill it.

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