Samples.
I got these hands, looking for useI got a plan, just needs a houseWalls bare, so much potentialLook there, what looks like plasterIs really a future, waiting for color and
Rob’s Lament.
This space is getting smaller nowin an instant inward goes the frameSchwarzschild would be proudof the compressionof his equations as we tighten up the gripas we tighten up our eyesas
Revolutions Per Minute.
Everyone loves a revolutionspin in a circle, ’til it comes roundeveryone loves a revolution’til it’s on your doorstep, ’til it’s on your ground I got complaints, I can’t denyI got
Revenge of the Mouse King.
Knife in teeth and creepingLittle Stuart-esqueGets his cog key caught in the barbed-wire of his nestThe Wooden Mouse King never faltersHis advance remains uncheckedWith the better man unfettered Asparagus takes
rearview.
I picked up a new rear view todayto help put this behind meand now I watch things fall awayand vanish to a point the sun settles round like a halo
PUSH.
I’m sleeping on the floorboardslistening to your small secret soundsI try not to hear but my earfollows you to the kitchen and backI would not accept the truthbut your movement
Protest Song.
Because sometimes a protester’s worst enemy is their own lack of substance – and because my generation never really got a slogan they could believe in. I’m so sorryI hear
Pollock.
Pigeons sit lined up like ellipses on a street lamp, like Morse code. Sparrows are whole notes on the staff strung up between telephone poles. And if they could not
Pocketing.
in the pockets of my jeansare all the things that I might needit’s cash and coins and nails and string I keep my courage in my pocketI keep my armour
Pine.
There’s a beauty to soft woods with knots that untangleeasily by chisel, easier by sawbut press a finger deep and you may even dent the surfacelike talc, parading as a