Play

please. can I just play
I've had enough of managed airs
dreams metaphors and intellectual
cache

I just want to play

Taking a chair onto a stage
and talking to it in gurning accents
that sound like an instrument
played badly like only a master
can play that badly

throwing yourself into a mudbank
dressed in chiffon and shagpile
caked and heavy-limbed
gurgling bubbles in 3D
post-coital without the coital
drag

taking a black corridor
at speed
a wide angle-d foray
oh how we strode
that corridor flaky
squeeky chipped and crowded
seedy loud squalor
proud? you bet
proud you bet
I have legs so thin
you could use them
as arms for spectacles

a beach of zephyrs
that buff me up a treat
clamouring to catch my eye
but the lapping waves
are inches from me
making perfect jewels
out of molten sugar
on a hot knife

sleep.
there's nothing to say
sleep is its own
calendar
it just sleeps

to you, my winter
come on I don't hate you
that's only frost
and that's only dark
I knew you were coming
stop your sobbing
i'll make some tea
I really like
what you've done
with your air

my mind changes
these days
like those animals
you leave in water
for hours and hours
eventually later
after everything
they're swollen
until their eyes
are stretched
on the glass
like liquorice accidents
that's how my mind
takes on
these days

pudding words
on paper
this is my
poetry.