transmission & delivery

blue light is a blue tit chirping // letting other sunrise game know // it’s still alive // the

keyboard // a manifesto of nightcaps & queer discourses

you wear pigeon colours fresh // from basement clouds of reddened skies // i see a

future genealo...

Uncle Tim on Space Travel

That giddy fantasy people bought

into in their droves in my lifetime – Land

Rovers and ochre mines on Mars,

elevators leading to the space oasis –
a whole universe to keep on plundering.

Kids think it’s inevitable now,

they think the planets are...

She is leaning against the wall, sagging from no water.
No one notices as her flower fades and the petals fall again.
Hope springs eternally and naively as she shyly looks at the
boys who pass her by.
Invisible in spite of her bright colors.
At the hour of one she gath...

The ice house raised out of the blank desert canvas like a wart, larger and uglier than everything around it, a boil on the finger of God. Miles and miles of pockmarked beige sand extended in either direction, sporadically dotted with mobile homes and cars raised up on...

                 Samantha is steadfast in her determination to tempt, as she holds a spoonful of peanut butter in front of Brutus’ face. Brutus looks at the spoon but knows he must not lick it. He has learned this the hard way from hours of practice with a dog trainer...

On the slow train from Cambridge
To Ely, I am sitting behind two Russians.
A couple, they are locked in conversation,
Oblivious to the fenland steppe outside,
The rain-steeped, raven-black earth,
This England in its midwinter rain.

The diesel cars head north, transport...

This boy vacuums the taxidermy. Moves the black nozzle over still-soft hair, over pink-veined ears, polished noses, thick necks.
               This one looks awfully offended. He’s gentle with the horns. Hardly skimming.
Indignant.
...

Baggage

Claudia and Mark stand bewildered in the refrigerator section of the local market, gazing at the vast varieties of milk.

“There’s so many to choose from,” says Claudia.

“Let’s just get the regular one,” says Mark.

“What does regular even mean anymore?”

“The 2% one....

god

I confess. I do believe in god. Not an all knowing
all powerful bearded old man on a throne in the sky.
No. No. My god is androgynous, sitting near me
In the coffee shop. Inconspicuous. Strong, but
flawed. With my god, I press my face to the sky.
And I feel the dri...

Little Visitors

Vonich visions occasionally book rooms in my head
They often gift my lost & found with radiant surprises
leaving transmissions—leaving transcripts—leaving oddities

            Leaving
Aphorisms                     faded painting...