gone like a cool breeze
frisbee free
strophe propelled
canvas a range of opinion
idea thrust
pastoral comical tragical
hello
find you here
in if you like
a conversation
that’s it
lean in with
tip till
keep a grip
let the string out
breeze take
beats tap
rarely rhyming
who will have the tiller then?
call a tug-o-war
climb!
take in and trim the cat
watch while
we let down ladders, many
sometimes it seems like a pile of islands
lift let
and there are becalmings
latitudes for donkey
mule
a prize
for the most beastly behaviour
allowances age made
here are the ruins
and blow me down –
the annual awards!
on the carpet
or took off by rug
come from the rope
and ever enough
down for the canvas count
won’t you look up
kilting
trapezoid!
Saturn high V
one bean for a cow and grew to this
pitch a tent skyward
fee fie on’t
sniff
not for profit
so let’s swap
I’ll show you if you’ll read mine
Louder
damn those hornball cicadas
islands are all second guessing
they are the dead flock
each go alone
above my nation
bombers have held a fete
call glissement
a capture of say eau d’imagination
or not
often as slap in the wet belly fish
come catch and toss again
time wasted!
not me off the hook
sail on!
and then the thousand years
sail of the line ride finest
little books for a world come ever smaller
pack fairytale
they’re seasonal
cast like coins two up
friends in the head
and many the tricks of presence are
wrought for the warmer world
so
blow me down
then a line gets out
sticks for instruction
mantra or an admonition
self to self
go go
toys and islands
in the bath once
was the whole of a harbour
storm safe
in the aeon till everything begins
you can take the machine apart
islands flutter by mechanical
wound as the heavens once must have in
a twinkle up for stars
never the same together but twice
see under them the workings
flowering all
come in a burst of cloud
propel the self as if by fart
or the how-they
pulleys sprockets
cogs rags oiled
toes grip the rung
slippery devil
then float free
ringside for angels falling
lit
and every weather
dance up in the air like this
others clear blue
and Christmas again
the Sunday month
I’m opening a door here
part your own mists, will you, won’t?
make births as from the undersea
and who will say volcano?
from all walks
many more in mind
sunk ones too
and islands down
someone hid a sneer behind
soon outed though
and back to task
we better a world as we go
make it up as
we’re here
we’re gone
ready or not
loose
and here we come
high as fast as who can fly
as is the leaf uplifted
a vapour trail and gone