processed rants
enigmatic chants
the Buddha rested on a tree growing angled
summer time and the living is drowsy
summer time and the living is blunt
police chief at the scene of a crime waving a document in the rain
he aimed for the throat and got lucky
the epidemic flourished in the overgrown garden
a finger tip search on hands and knees produced no results
the orange streets under bridges
vague echoes of life
reverberate car engines
reverberate conversations
reverberate wind through narrow streets
reverberate reverberations
reverberations reverberate
the alleyways are piss stained and stinking
the telephone box houses a dead telephone receiver and vomit
do you ever appreciate the sheer elegance and perfect beauty of a piece of litter caught spiralling in a corner, caught in tiny wind, caught out of the corner of your eye and reducing you to tears under street lights that you know you'd miss if you ever left here or went blind?
walk down the same street every night and day and think it exotic.
~
the purple fog of a nightscape blurry
the billboard covered bridge
the Trongate clock in the distance where they used to hang villains
Glasgow cross and the hollow faced junkies in the chip shop
~
it's been a long time since I kissed someone and the thought of this is never far from my mind.
my detachment from you
my lack of attachment
the accoutrements that hang from her body catch light
make reflections dance on white walls blue
the sun shines on her hair and says 'the pleasure was all mine'
I make dumb smiles and think of things to write when I get home.
