Shorts from Kitchen Sink Satellites

Nativity Blues

They found him on the school stage
overlooked by a portrait of Jesus,
Above the chair he had kicked away

Small Things Like This

A piano plays in an empty womb
hear the minor keys fall silent,
Staccato are hospital ward screams
brief is the introduction of strangers

Falling from Drifting Snow

When we came back late from the Waterfall
someone pinned a message to the gate,
Wales has drowned, just keep fucking sailing

Some Call it Irony

Knuckleboned tornflesh night
crept for a post-something piss,
Slugged his brandy bottle
so he could taste his Wife’s
cunt in his next tumbled glass

It May Have Been the Way She Carelessly Left Her Dildo on the Plane

It was parachutes and poetry which brought you here
travelling light as the flutter of sun-flamed Romany skirt,
I discard metaphor at the
‘Anything to Declare’ barrier

To the Tattoo of Me

Solitary lantern from attic window
frames the skinned hieroglyphics on my skin
maps compass points to treacherous harbours,
Until reberthed,
she draws a swallow on my neck

Without Music the World Dies

Walker strings Sinatra to Cave walls
Barbed is the wire of the last baritone

Broken jukebox serenades gutters
of never played symphonies,
touched by the hands of devil Gods
flesh left to rot on human'less dancefloor

Like standing on Charing Cross
beside a derelict Eighty-Four