the weekly underground
DESCRIPTION
poem, poemsTRANSCRIPT
Preface
I meant it somehow
it’s not like the evil
spirit
more like
the wind
you know
it is windy
wine day
this is amazing man
.
this is a Friday night
this is awesome pretending
what ping i really pong or tick
tok tok tick tick tok tok
...
Time passes, he said all over
the place & agian (I mean again
(just now) *again) To do to move
to day with the way time passes
to do to day
- Thank you
.
Inside
What I was trying
to say: my voice
is a quiet expression
of what
i can’t say
.
didn’t realise
hadn’t realised
couldn’t realise
I was
I was waiting
I was waiting for this
.
time is a tiny dot. a spot
where everything is held.
of course (& in course)
i didn’t see it
coming
but you felt
something
Do
it
to
a
t
=
= =
The some
of our
partings
come & go
= =
=
MATTER
OF
FACT
= = =
themysteryisnotamystery
amysterisnotthemystery
the mystery
is not
a mystery
a mystery
is not
no mystery
is finished
let me
tell you
some things
like pages
end, or are
turned
but what is
the mystery
you tell me
Outside
in this vein
blood continues
raining
sunshine
and so on
.
up on
some mountain
this image
was not captured
.
thought i was
inside the belly of the whale
but i
was on a train, dreaming
i was sitting on this step
writing
i am looking at the garden, thinking
Being a lyric poet in the 23rd century is hard
for every thought & feeling must be reported
to the authorities. But down by the river, after
dark I found this machine, floating. And no-one
will ever know. Living underground, no-one knows.
stories carry on
from face to face
but real life requires
paper aeroplanes
.
Time folds.
Replaced
in the space
that looks like a line
.
Believing is nothing
i mean
believing in nothing
is nothing
i mean
believing in nothing
is better than nothing.
.
No thing
is more than
nothing
Two Spiders
The spider on the left is in his corner
The spider on the right is in his corner
looking over its kingdom
of window and web
of opposite worlds
over its kingdom, almost
exactly the same
completely different
completely & different
almost, exactly the
shame about the error
what error?
never
mind
did you eat the fly
which one?
the one i was saving for lunch
no
you sure?
it was bob
i’m bob
i know
it was you
sorry about that
it’s fine
The Muddle of the Weak
going underground
and noticing
grandpa’s green jumper
has been left
by myself
back out the way The Past, I
there was
I
saw the future
of my past
in many ways I
was there was I
there some dreams
come true but not the ones
you made up
On the page
I am right
here
On the table
there is
yellow car
Green beer is not tea
on the table
tennis ain’t squash
Part of elsewhere is today
The words I am writing
are within
(the words I am
writing)
The book that is written
in words too far
To see
Being a spy
begins at home
which is why
I questioned
‘home’
and home replied
where are you
where you are
another cake of life
becomes a slice
once you look at it
the icing
on the sea
will be calmer
from a distance