post xmas fridge
a green popsicle
screams to the void
10 minutes more daylight
sleeps on the stairs
winter fog
and one step
sideways
I cross my
fingers in boredom
and winter fog
again this year the window
full of winter fog
a flute
in the thicket
the loved one
approaches
heart
beat
beat
beat
milk
in her
hand
beneath an orange sun
an ochre ogre plays
Johnson's blues
patching up
old wellies
this fog
has no end
finding my sandals on top
the tv I contemplate moving
a candle before Vishnu fog
rolls in in waves
this damp winter
sounds seem to have gone
under ground
sweeping the stairs (and
maybe the stars) I let a wind go
tea with Patanjali -
the Patriarch bends to pry
a sutra from his shoe
walking with Patanjali
the Patriarch admits
jealousy
towards his pet clouds
hot dog stand -
Patanjali tells the
Patriarch
the sutra for sweetening
ketchup
neti, neti -
Patanjali shows the
Patriarch
the non-being of a hot-dog
lamb chops my head back on
my neck
small talk with a flamingo
there aren't any chairs
left
in the crying-room
steak and potatoes clouds
settle as mountains
sombre reptiles along the
tracks to Amygdala
at a turn in the bowel a
protein and sugar house
it's one of those days
Gale rearranges
the garden
in a white world
I brush water-fluff
off the firewood
bricking up the gates of
Heaven
we build
with first thrown stone
