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Reggie's Ghost on Wild Dogs
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rob1967able on tearing us apart.
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Aberystwyth, February 1978

Standing at the brink

in off-brand corduroy, dyed wool

picking apart the sunbeams

with your one hand slowly

closing.

The funicular sings silent

the third curve of dust-white

aggregate is steeper still

and behind you lies

the vast bowl of swallowed

time, the shattered stopwatch

shards hanging loosely

quivering swords

over ripped Polaroid.

 

You drop the ...

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Sports Day

Afterwards you came to me

and asked

'Why did you slow down

before the end?'

I had not realised

I had

 

The blue glass sky

bled us sweat-dry

and lurking

in the corner

always the eyes

the eyes

 

Inside all was madness

and crushed teal ice

for all of us

my mind's stalled

back in time

for what?

 

I could not shed

the cloak of air

I'd...

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Scrap Philosophy

Hate is for the jilted,

no-go refunds

and markets saturated with remembrance.

I'd like to pick tulips

and prise up weekends for play,

we'll scream

down corridors and

is that not enough?

 

Dreading penance I don't want

rain days, just candles

and cars, the road

and space

to dream and walk.

 

When I fall too far

you call me back

and I'll open the le...

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Moon Haiku (or 'How Poets Can Pale Into Insignificance')

Full moon wreathed in cloud


like black pepper smudged on white


ghostly negative.

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Father

1981, the year a blue stencil,

verso, gloss off-white,

unstuck blu-tacked, loose framed,

sun-curled image

your grin and your cow-lick,

and causal wear,

your ghost in my machine.

A bawling, squall, curtains

of hail and rain hang outside,

ladder, paint, spots and tans

and frayed carpet,

the dark, shaggy corner swamp,

where I found you, sideways-stacked,

cracked...

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