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may your poems be coarsenay they have a textu.re., a frictio;----?r# ;::il;":i""::i,ff1::on of-and other such fictionand instead puncture the skin,howl about the peauty of sinmay they burn with a purposemay they be abrasive brrc trlrerTray your poems be the truth(for the truth is coarse)I hopefor your sake., !v! Ivur Do^ctl that your poems are you

a}l that is soli-dnelts into airno guidance, no pl-ot,no fortune Lo favourjust the echo of, onethe beating of wings,condemned to be freein this hundredth ofsluck halfway

foot passing its partnertreading of water

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Firsl ihings first the pisserPiss up fhe porceloin wollsReod ihe 'hot cock wonted' noteslf you wonl you con coil

-_tgnore ihe we€in yourseli nrocnine

Do you really wonno know?Buy o bigger jockelYour belly wiil not sho7

Browse ihe shelves in wh smitf,iThere's borgoins to be hodSiing ips cnd mills ond boonAni mo:lin omis' dod ---

vouir--'cs ore winsins tosiotoi'..- -

They woni some sweets ond crisPs

You hove o cuP of coffee '-.---Thoi tosies like wormed uP Piss"

Pisspoor piped music dronesYour broin cells slowly roiSomeone offers you some free sompleYou soy 'id rofher not'Siience folls ot the formic ioblesMum soys 'nol Thoi's thol'The kids comploin ond dod despoirsHe ihinks his wife's o twotA fomily trip to ihe loke districi'ln o corovon for hire :

Peeling poini ond orgumentsWhere morrioges expireMisery's o fomily heirloomLike Philip.lorkin soid l

Now for the good newsll'll be over when you're deodRelreot to ihe l8s only portThe roped off orcode gomesWhere ten pence pieces get wosted

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pin ter c-o ulo*6o veln vdie d ;;BuiG net;euen tiieo

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ehildPlay verlebrae -

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Yocn!:ght 'Glow-i]-the-dark bones'i'"."i"o""i yout =xio wi'Lb''a heavy rauh:de rusile'

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X-ray untouched You slunberi"i"l.iii-"t" t;er-h caslallyD:eaming enpiy dreus '

fbq* / o'jrh,t&su.T Dluck a rib tron Your ci'e6t'i.-i"-"^"o.r. s;b:etocth and Piano keys'

I sew You back uP quickly'But i am no gligeon.It i5 a nessy affaa: wlihBloodbloich and blankelstiich -Toa ttrarly biurders '

r fashion sex out of bcne' :

A vou Eha: is allogelher not You

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Great poets of lhe 20th century

'fo spit out atl the bLrtt-ends of rlty clays atlcl ways?

Anrl holv shottld I Presunte?

And I have known thc arms alrcady' known then: all -Anns that are braceleted and white and barc

(J:|ut in thc lamplight, dorvned with light brown hair!)

Is it

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'Ib roll it towards some

To sry: 'l am Lazarus'

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The coffee is neor deoththey're not fucking joking'

Poor involunteer no PoYcheckno'how was YourdoY sweefh eorf?"

not even recognition

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INCEST

God!Though I worship your name every morning and every evenirlg

dnd at every meal and every time I get in my car

I feel very proud todaY for being

the way I am, not likethat monster in the news.

How can a man do such things to his own daughter?

I don't mind: I'm not him,I'm a good father'I've enrolled my little son in my football club,

My daughter sludies mY religion,away from temptations,And what can I say about my two oldest sons?

One is studying at the college I chosp

the career I chose

and I chose

for the other onea position as my right hand in the farniiy business.

All four must be proud of their father

and their grandparentswhose names they carry.

I'm their father and I do with them whatever I want.

and I thank you, God, for not being a monster'

L'JtNDO1,-lI tum an eye on the worldfiom my room.I don't need to go outside,since I live in a room with one window'

In one blink Ican see our righteous leaderapproving the death penalty for someone who must have deserved

Before I saw some rioters arrested for their political slatements.

"During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act",

they say.

I praise our police forprotecting our hcimes fromthose vicious invaders.Last week I could see some of them on the street

I hate their obscene movements and grimaces.

Fortunately, they were exPelled.

There are lots of thingsto see from my window.I must keep it close

For my security,but it's not a big deal.

My window allows me to see realitY,

J"d4-t-z /<-;tB,=.tsit11#!1

Qsaaa: /,/de-'

I'i,,_i , 'tli l. -"

/''.'-i.,ir'r' i r:.-;r. i..'e....i.- ;':.ti: -.;!if

Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there.

- Otomo No Yaftamocfii

Love is the greatest human emotion any one person citn feel, there's always talk of that'one' person foreach of us, There are six billion people on the planet, six billion imaginations. Buf how many possibi/ines

are there?

London, England. A830, Monday l1thNovember.You wake up one morning and it's a beautiful day. Even in this cold you can't wait till you srep oufside the

house and have f}:e sun hit your face in the cold wind. ft's gonna be a good day. A beautiful day.

In this cold London morning lies Daniel, twenty years of age and in his second year of universiry studying

Enslish Literature, he lives alone in a flat in the Docdands area near Cattary Wharf. f guess there's nothing

much more you need know about him, aside from dte fact he lives aJone, he's an orphan of wo wealthy parents

which pretty much gives him that clichdd'well-off and spoiled child, but he's not. Ffe 's just like any otheruniversity sfudent - tytng hard to get his degtee.

He wakes up aJona, goes ta university and attends his lechres, seminars, has lunch with a couple of people

from his class, hands in work on time and gets the grades. At the end of the day he heads home alone, watches

a bit of T.V, maybe play a couple of videogames, goes out for a walk by the Thames River, alone. He goes to

bed at midnight ta repeat the cycle for the following day. This is Iils life; this is whar if has been for twenty years,

four months and twelve days.

Tokyo,Iapan. 1730, Monday 13th April.Spnng pass es and one temembers one's innocence, but what about during the spring nmeP She keeps asking

herself, what can someone do during the spring?

As with Daniel, fhere's not much to tell about Chihiro, she's your typical Japanese girl living with her roommate

Ai in Shinjuku-ku. She's twenty-one and works at the TEIeven part time while studying Madtematical Science

at the f|niversity of Tokyo. Her roommate is working at a Law firm and rs usual/y never home, so Chihiro gets

up to an empty apartment, takes the Metro to university alone, finishes the day and heads off to work at the end

af the lecfiires ind has the rest of the night to herself wltere she tends to walk around the Shibuya-ku arca, aJone.

Her parents live in Osaka in a small house by the coast and she vrsits iltem every summer for a family gathering.

Spring is Chihiro's favourite time of the year, its when the Cherry B/ossorns are in full blitom, and she would situnrfer one alone while staring out into the world while the sun sefs, widt nothing but one question playing an hermind, oWhenP".

It's a beautiful day, and it's going to be a magnificent night.

Sheep

,,Let me light that for you", he said, through the cold, fluorescent night' His hands are

shaking, bitten, as he fumbles with the cheap plastic

I can...she insistsNo, let me do this

They both inhale, and he returns to his post, waiting, outside the tube, as people in suits

stare, fixed, at the concrete stains

"Big Issue!"

What,s your name? He calls, acIoSS the pavement; ale you Welsh then? I knew you

were Wllsh the moment I saw you; I could tell by your eyes'

At this, she smiles (in Welsh)

"Big Issue!" and then, for her benefit:

"Issue Mawr!"

A man walks Past, and shakes his head

They don't believe I'm homeless,

its myPierre Cardin suitI look too swish

It,s a nice suit, she calls. Late commuters are rushing past now, peturbed by this cross-

favement conversation. It is the same suit I were put away in'

He grew up in the village in the next valley

home.

When was the last time You were home?

Nine years ago.

Weiwas tie last timeYouwere home?

from hers. I'm saving up for a train ticket

Last weekend.How does it look?ie has just got out. She does not ask him what he did'

not worried. He seems safe, somehow'

I'm going to afuneral, if I can get there. fufy friend Felicity, car crash, on the old A5'

near the UglY House.

I know it, she nods.

she were a good friend to me, that girl. You know, they tried to do my teeth in prison'

but I wouldn,t let ,em. 'l'I'm goingilome!" I says, "I won't get a gal back home.with a

ful set of pearly whites!" 7i,it *ip all them ru-gby lads with half theirs lcnocked out'

She laughs, even thouglr all the boys she knows back home have a fuIl set of teeth'

It'ssobeautifulthere'Ihateithere'Lookatthesebastards'A -un with an umbrella starts as she laughs again'

Her friends are late, but she is

ii

riji

They can't believe you're talking to me, lady and the tramp il ls. She is conscious now

of her designer handbag and stilettos . You look like one of them.

I'm not.

London's horrible. I can't wait to smell the grass. Instead of mountains, you've got

slqtscrapers. These people are sheep.

I think it's beautiful.

She realises, at this point, that he is drugged up' It doesn't bother her; she'llbe worse,

in a few hours.He has forgotten about the Big Issue now, and is asking if she knows people he knows,

the man with the tin whistle that only plays two notes, his mother.

Her friends are forty minutes late, and she can see her breath. I'll be back in'two

minutes, she says, and walks off, briskly'

"Rhiannon!" he calls, after her, and pronounces it properly'

"Are you coming back? ""Yesl"

Her friends arrive, flushed, apologetic'

She gives him six pounds, two cigarettes, and a filter coffee: "l

"Why were you talking to that tramp?"

"He was Welsh"

Later, at the bar, she orders a dirty martini. How dirry do you want it? The barman asks.

Incredibly dirry, she saYs.

Back home, she would be drinking snakebite. Two days later, she will sit in a trendy bar

sipping muscadet and listening to a boy in skinny jeans tell her how good Simon and

Garfunkel are. You're not in Kansas anymore'

She remembers what he shouted after her as she clip clapped a\Nay, and she makes the

next one a beer:

"Don't everforget where you'refrom, girl!"

She feels like she has just seen an angel'

hope you get home"

Tea t vr*-"/ /,*V'f a/uaf t***try + fu'ds*.a'>*- h/r4//a*a

fi",:!j 4tP1S;-e@lar Plut r

How long-iince tirat ancient

I stand, as rnY ancient

\ A oool's moistureM-=wq,Iwonderiflha

-';ffiry -Gu"pi"E,

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Winter had thus far only seeped into her bedroom, like dustsleeping in all her drawers and picture frames. When he cameover he opened her window, and then the winter lived therecomfortably. Wal1s have very little work to do when windowsare open for they protected her from nothing but the hallway.With each passing day she had lived in a different box.

She began to like all the big warm galaxies outside whichbelonged to olher people; the neighbours and busj-nessmen andthe postman, their many rushes and concerns. They played boardgiames toqether, even though he was a rampant rule-bender. Inthe past, when it was cold, her eyes had always becomefrostbitten, sma11 and too precise, but nor,,r she paid moreattentj-on to birds and trees instead of her shoes. She beganto read patterns and maps on the backs of her hands, despitethe many inehes of nighttlme _between her glance and her skin.At a keen eighteen years, she.was used to grandiolguentexcuses for beauty and thrivj-.ng off some borrowed edginess.But she wouLd never tlre of the handsomeness of someonedifferent, who sees things not through the windows of othersor through a convex mirror, but in ways that made her r..ii".she had been li-ving her life with eyes closed.

At Christmas she asked for time to read every book and listento every record that had ever been recommended. She asked foran end to vralfs and symmetry,

Her name chang.es seasonally now. She keeps the books andrecords in her car and they continually grow in nurnber. Theothers wondered where she slept and why she couldn,t s::ck hezbcc!:s :here. She ta1ked of vaulting over the roc-La:se rc::Lcari f;ndt:lg a place where she could disti.nguisn srals ircnp1e:es. A::: when she woke up in her rno:ninc, she jo:nd that hewas there !oo,

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Two whiskeYs

and vou're out on the sfreet,

feetteating hard; limp from a blister'

Fall, back firsg back into a bus uop tt

(Oversrown plants, the shade of listerine

iutft rip ugtiitst the perspex in night glow green)

Bus arrives with cheaP smiles

and beers at the toP

passing all night grocers and lingerie shops'

with mannequins growing grosser

the closer to Your stoP,

Get off the bus",Camden's monshoLtt"

I

i'"s16',tl rr,t;

",,. .:v r.,-r

Find a cafe, Quick!Stick it out ltil dawn,

and if the terible trembling

of soft po* mornirg papers gets too much"'

Dip a finger in Your coffee

to contextualise the stories

-of"hildr"o'r'bodies, on shoulders, in other counhies'-

and t}us, calibrate Your touch'

(The lieht's uo outside;

;;;;;"h;.., morning tide's changing,

but not where You are.)

Now follow the string tied to your finger

tluough the morose glow

of suf,erfluous sffeet lamP light,

lineeiine in a purgatory of twenty story pyres'

" rirnrtlituo anl respite for the tired'

(A box for all, and all for a box)

Run hofite now,through shoals ofPentecostal church goers;

Inter-coastal leaf blowers,

Clcaring earlY morning avenues

in anti-autumn subterfuge.

(What you can't see'.,)

Finally,Hope that string, that brittle filament'

is tied.

(Perhaps to Your other hand,)

fp.. "..'. -\'t

ta

(2/3) 'Art-Broken

The cool air of the night steps up as I step downto the light polluted streetthat moves in checks beneath my feet. Ground. Feet. Ground. Feet.-Ellipses;I feel like Dimetos,an old man, with shaking hands, lost to, and of, his artifice;trying to allay the nauseous grind of time & impetus.

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I forrnulate a story,lie prostrate at the glory of the circular gods of progress.Digress;lose myself andundress.Fall into a deep sleep,

on a void beach,

I don't want to lose this;I don't want to lose this;I don't.

'The waves polished stones until they disappeared'and joined the clear salty depth,coarse & caustic,as I slept.

And Though it leaves the boulders, pebbles, sand grains decomposed,My hands will hope the smallest taste of honey has osmosed.

Seeks us out, unexPecting,at intersecting streets,performing the function at busy junctions

-As we wait for traffic laPses-

of rending us in marble'We are (to be) set,

& beautiful, though time elaPses,

where the honeyed sand is the remnants of muses,'..,.. that waves wash away and

Now,as we walk the streets of London,the undone stone$ soliditYof the steps become towering waves

of a curious quiddity.

today,it's ok.

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We step down, something simultaneous,making waves on tenuous stePs;

we traverse them ten at a time.

Your hand(s) in mine,on my shoulder, father,arms, mother,back, friend,& unknown lover.

We are one; owner weePingfor property;as much as for memory.

fr**re U &tr/a?'

SPE(T KU PI,

Ir*n ,"t, lhe sun's rays wilh unbreachable

i'i"r in"iip"t,tm of a view' a Place

wi.ti- .tl. ri"'etlls tefracl into colours

Condensing light'

ffiifr:i:t,l.*;"riu'rrjrl;liill;f "' "

n' "o

Sirying in the eyes and mlno'

Thers are as Yet Places oPaque

where our time and li{e

Have Passed, slightly' ano srr0

Olf into memory

Then briqht colours'

.resns, blue=, emb€rs ' wnn€s '

irrinino. strong and sensuat'

i'o*,ii *it"tJttes burst intc lisht'

To sense then lhe adiliciality of colour'

[H: [tJli""ction' rhe racit truth' tns

O{ processed reallty'

t'lp N\a K Sort

I miss the other times when words weren'ta lrfe could viake and close unburdened, unwar)

There are whispered ripples norv, uncertaln; brokenAnd that sljght denial when i becom€ soft spoken.

miss ths older days ilhen words had no fonri.They rvould stretch into diamond dust, fire shards, nerWth lines coloured in light touched by smiles and fearOulrision was sltarp and shapeless; our images clea

Then came the rdin. Filling out our ideas that ntuch strPainted now wilh utatorcolours we watch the assocratiSeeing Cezanne instead ol mounlatns, Turnerinslead

Quietly no",/ I speak: "When I grow up I will be longerl'All thal is left is a few cheap jokes, something a!./cket

]if

*f oBW5 **1,+P( Lb And lhat slight denial rvh€n I become scfl spoken

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ambition toomust be builtbrick by brickan nurturedfrorn circumstance

vutnerableto invasionbeing shelled flatfloods ofmigrants

the romance offoreign merchantsand foreign goods

electric and :

gas prices ,

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and the ideasof other men.

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the srde on scafter scupause and head back to sunflick

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the desert hot chocolate l

brown, against the background blur;of khaki and Afghandriven trucks, colourful cabs,

Ieaf rotrled cigarettes tiedwith yellow thread, in clear skywadi dry cut lips, lit upand smoking,

the wag angledlook and paw chasing tennisball shapes, in befween theaxle's heavy creak, doesn'ts"he know there's a war on?

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IJ<nerv he ryas clir.ty, r,erv dirry. ,

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'And the Whale said'

The start ofa Story for a Child

It was earlY, earlY in the morning'

The sun wasn't even awake but a man was waiking by the sea'

Hewalksalong'lookingathisfeetinthewater'thewaterisverycold

and his toes are wrinkling from the water'

Then,throughthedarknessandunderthelightofthemoonthemansees

ashadowonthebeachaheadofhim.Hewalkscloserandfindsagreat

animal lying on his tummy on the sand' A Whale'

rhe man cannot understand *t'tl;illif; fffi ;J,n"r'#t when he knows the whale is an

He stands there a long while' gazingat the'Whale'

'How huge you are"'' the man whispers' ""how

giant and lovely"'

whatananimallButhereyouarelyingwhereyouarenotmeanttobe''.

ontheitchysand'whenyouaremeantforwaterandthedeep'deepsea.'

rhe more the man thought the,Tff;Xt*:3:Tf,: li*ffi:nTn the beach in rront orthe

And the Whale saYs

'WhY are You crYing?'

The man looks up quickly' [he was very surprised) He says

;l thought You were dYing Whale'

And the Whale said

'No' no' I am not dying' I am only resting' I've been for a long swim'

Themanandthewhaletalkforabitoftime.Themanisbesidehimself[becauseheknowsthewhale *itt ii. if he stays on the beachJ and tries to explain this to the whale'

.Don,tyouknow,Whale,ifyoustay.hereonthebeach.the,s'unwillcomeup.Then,slowly,the

day will get l.,otte;"afii;,;;, ;"a ,"';tti;;ur nna trre trriie i', vou '""'J:1T,ustn't get hot

like that, because your big d#;#; i; ;;; ." ri"iigl" tt'" .ooi '." waters,

And the whale said

'Nonsense! If you can live on land then so ."'!J]i""the the Air just like you do, I don,t need the

Thetheall-too-htprophet,diJapisilhorusding leaand weart'one hand, ami

!{I

The prophet wore a

dreadlocks.hair. Hisprophet thehead and

pair ofroberobemanycofrom

He na

of thedesmanweak

Asainpantry

Thesfe

Iight of kc world. n" t"at, i

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seemed td,warm again. n'ffiFtorgoffeh memory, a memoryworld. B,1tt still, it tvas oipropheiihad only just be1

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