Monday, 17 June 2013


Of course he wasn't real...
in a conspiritorial tone,
...just the product of editors
writing for frustrated
middle aged guys not
getting enough.
Sex, dope, drama,
action, stuff...
No one ever saw him
vomit in a piano.
Come out of a bordello.
No one ever saw him.
She sat back, looked
Almost like she was
ready for that
post coital drag.
I got up went
down the hall.
Took a decent crap,
whacked off,
killed a spider,
came back.
Run that past me
would you?

first published in Message In A Bottle Summer 2016

Haiku for the birds

I'm not paranoid
birds are everywhere. Watching.
Waiting. Whistling.

Don't you find it weird?
Don't you wake up in the night
in a flap? Black wings

lapwings, larks, linnets,
and a thumping great heron,
all wearing thin on

me now. I somehow
sense they have a darker need,
not just bread and seed.

I could buy a cat
but sly felines would kill you
while you lay asleep

if they had their way.
So I'll just wait for the birds
to make the first play...