| stiff as a board
|
| gold of a thousand mornings
|
| spun in the yarn
|
| chewing the grass
|
| salt of the sea
|
| forms glow neon
|
| corpus callosum
|
| doors open lotus
|
| all in magnolia keys
|
| loaded pellets
|
| frozen kinetics
|
| motion sensor down
|
| no sense of ground
|
| both legs are bound
|
| umbrellas float lemmings
|
| to sound high as the heavens
|
| stitched to the floor
|
| ball in a ball on a string
|
| spinning orb on a whim
|
| split to the atom
|
| satis crushed mud in a balm
|
| spat a satellite station in each breath
|
| poured in the sink
|
| picking lord of the chimps
|
| sword in the shoulder
|
| hawk in the wings
|
| talk of the solar order
|
| split coordinates
|
| audience all called to the jinn
|
| tied to a tether
|
| invisible cord
|
| remember being what you ain’t evolved into
|
| pregnant with meaning
|
| grey slopped in soup
|
| paper bib to neck
|
| white sheet to dribble on
|
| call it channelled intercom
|
| planet in a box
|
| batteries included
|
| pattern to confusion
|
| in bullet points
|
| pop it in a blender
|
| static in a pot cum cup
|
| to pull a tooth in
|
| summer love
|
| smuggled in a moth bitten suit
|
| from the cupboard of dementia |
| remember screaming
|
| please paint me the colour of adventure
|
| paisley and white
|
| like tunnels to the Mecca
|
| see the threads loosen
|
| where’d you get that?
|
| animé armbands
|
| my buttercup commodore
|
| sunken in the manga
|
| see you at the wit’s end
|
| 'til then
|
| chip chop
|
| click clack
|
| clip clop
|
| tin men
|
| ship wrecked
|
| cuddling the anchor
|
| cupping the illusions
|
| canderel
|
| they call it dance to the gamelan
|
| clasp of the hammerhand
|
| last of the summer wine
|
| you’re more than the sum of parts
|
| son of ours
|
| some say spun dry in sunshine panacea
|
| fork tongue licks retina
|
| call it thumb print of editor
|
| Hermes' daughters
|
| die and inherit the wind
|
| lend me your skin
|
| set me in fridge
|
| hand me your limbs
|
| swish, gargle and spit
|
| lather and rinse
|
| tear me a portal
|
| or crumble remembering
|
| half a second you’ll relive forever
|
| as basket reaches delta
|
| trip to milina
|
| squeezed in a psilocybe beaker
|
| and heat to melting
|
| silence epitome of speaking
|
| thief in a sheepskin blister
|
| life’s ocean
|
| crystal existence
|
| time strolled in
|
| hyper-enveloping
|
| ever in awe |
| every synapse snaps relentless
|
| sight of land on re-entry
|
| enters to never leave
|
| ever felt like the first born bird
|
| looking at his shelled siblings?
|
| sort of metaphysics
|
| sort of meta fizzing in the cooking fat
|
| of Gethsemane well wishers
|
| she said never let lips betray author
|
| it display order
|
| picture frame drawer
|
| cliff to bay faller
|
| picture maim aura
|
| flick the paint to hit
|
| to fit the page corner
|
| never live to see guys menopause
|
| just squint and make smaller
|
| unwrap round toy
|
| profound joy
|
| seeing plurals
|
| or just sit and lay dormant
|
| ticker tape falling
|
| superluminal trick of the hand
|
| simmering pans
|
| sit and shit, puke
|
| pray to the turtlehead
|
| circus edge sword say
|
| remember being red stained white sheet
|
| denim lemon scenery
|
| all prime colours mixed make grey though
|
| little wiry play-doh arms
|
| you’re one shade short of rainbow chard
|
| cable car shard off pulley cord |