Tag Archives: original writing

Archway Post Office

‘Excuse me,’ the woman in the blood-red-cotton-
jersey-synthetic mess of a unioned-uniform shirt
stopped. The package, her hand.

The distance of none.

‘Were you always a cunt, or did you just turn
into one when the menopause hit?’

Package snatched back. From hers to hers.

A smile, a wave, a twirl.

Exit left, worker stayed right
there.

Customer served the smile.
What service.

5 February: Musings

oh what changes + escapes
a single week makes.
A single week.
A single week.
A single shot
of heaven divine in a glass of glennfiddach.
Ach, slán. Slán my dear.
Tonight we will depart well and walk
from the reverberating tracks.
I wish you not to look back.
For I will be watching you walk and I couldn’t bear
you to look.

18 October 2017

I can’t wait to see you again.
I can’t wait to see you again.
I sure hope I can see you again.

When I welcome Love in
it just wants to leave again.
What’s the point of living
outside these nunneries?
Is this the pain of ageing or
the ageing of pain?

What’s that invisible sin
that stains my welcome
mat? I’m too good
of a loser now to now
take it personally.

Wave Love goodbye;
it was never a guest
to stay.
Just when I welcomed you
in you decided to leave
again.

And what do I do with
these ticket for you + I? I didn’t
think you’d be able to go anyway.
Planning
Advancing
Scares me more than things that fly.

Oh how I hate those birds + bees
but oh how I hate the anxiety of
thinking long from this moment.

I thought perhaps, at last + at least
you could be my moment.

I can’t wait to see you again.
I can’t wait to meet you again.
I sure hope we meet again.

O’doubt Banish this grief!
It weights me down like gravity.
Flight-full the wisps of love that
I could use with the landing down to
facts.

When things were going right
I needed this left + Love
to leave.

Reminding me of my
place + fate, where
I thought I was
planning my escape.

I listened to the Blues before you
and I’ll still listen now. You
showed me nothing too new
but I think I showed you
a thing, one or two.

I can’t wait to see you again.
I’m afraid to see you again.
Will we ever meet again?

Watching Violin and Viola Play

He touched her left shoulder with
his right arm. And I’m not sure of where
I stand versus where I stood.
Some things advance +
others lag the same old
different speed.

Some things never will change
Some things I never will understand.
The speed of the day ages
the week and unsure
will garner me a grey man.

Violinist + viola
flirt with music close.
Nothing I’ll never know. I write
with ink + mutterers I’ll sing.
Nothing like a musician’s promise
that keeps these vocal poets
away.

He bought me
a drink. He bought her
none at all.

Some things advance +
others lag the same old
different seed.

The violin + viola
swap strings. I’ll call that
euphemism + leave the
reader to think.

I’ll drink his bought drink
for me + wonder how

Some things never will change
some things I never will understand.
The speed of the day ages the
week + this unsure will
garner me away from
the person present will I be.

The violinist was supposed to leave
a time ago. The viola causes him to stay +
together they’ll play
until this bar closes +
forces them away.

But continue I’ll sit and gently
sip his bought drink.
Wondering how old will I be
how grey my hair’ll grow
before I lose this unsure
ground and the lag speeds will
become no more.