Poems
by the unfolding head
My American Friend
tried to be self sufficient
but instead broke
my mothers washing machine
& her world collapsed
one Thursday evening
summer sun stoking her rage
single parents fear the god
of white goods
I tried in vain
to stop her insulting you
from behind glass doors
but she kicked you out anyway
and you went to stay with my brother
& later
when porn was found
on my mothers pc
I let you take that bullet too
I never told you that
but fuck it
you were already gone
spending your days on sofas
beguiling British adult children
with your movie voice
plucking your guitar
for an African girl
with a Swedish passport
making Brandon hill a bedpost
teletext telling you
flights to Stockholm
were more expensive
than shed let on
Relief
As a relief driver
for a sandwich shop
the important thing to learn
is that sometimes
there is no relief to give
on such occasions
I used to find myself
wearing surgical gloves
elbow deep in a vat of mayo
coleslaw for the masses
has to be mixed
with a certain
discomfort
a thousand white cabbages
is not enough
to hide a morning
but a thousand carrots
is enough to make you wonder
if the rumours about the boss
& the young blonde
are true
Rusted
I let rip
another raw orange wave
rusty chunks
painting porcelain
then abort cornflakes
in the kitchen sink
my fathers wife
shielding her dog
from flecks of human
ketchup
cider
mush
mashed
made
from real
repression
thats why
the hangovers hurt
the way they do
Im out of practice
you aint got the belly for it
my father says
I open my eyes
good job
youve got enough
for both of us then
comes my reply
before slumping
back into atonic muscle sleep
stomach stripped bare
still as a newborn fawn
in the ashen sofa grip
of a stolid Thursday morning
Photographers
The dark room
was open
to first year students
most weekday afternoons
often
there were three
or four of us
at a time
I thought
they were just concentrating
on the spindle
like myself
but I later found out
he was fingering her
right there
less than five feet away
while I was groping
for the fruits
of my labour
Napanoch
The United States
is a great place
to ask yourself questions like
how much of a man am I?
and there are plenty of people
just willing & ready
to help
Why dont you see
if you can cut down that tree
you little British fuck?
what could I do?
I drained my beer
picked up the axe
& put my reputation on the line
it took a lot longer
than I had anticipated
and for weeks thereafter
I told people
there was one less tree
in the state of new york
because of me
until one day
I heard myself
speaking
yes, OK
it was private land
& pointless destruction
but whats more
American
than that?
Provencal
We used to walk across
to this French pizzeria
that served thick slabs
of comfort
cheesy grease bricks
made good life rafts
I celebrated a birthday there
my brother
brought his new girlfriend
a secret Jehovah
gave me a fuchsia
Bobby LP
and as we were leaving
I asked my brother
how things we going
he told me
he wasnt sure
if his new girlfriend
was a man
but havent you slept together yet?
I asked
Yes he replied
thats why Im worried
Gas and Electric
Our job
was to convince
random members
of the public
to change
their energy provider
It was a sordid little set up
my supervisor and I
used to take the bus
from the centre at 9
to the outer reaches
of urban decay
clipboards
& bic pens
as protection
My supervisor
was an optimist
& profusely obese
without fail
hed be dripping
by 10
I had a cheap gold
tie from Next
& a very strong suspicion
what we were doing
was wrong
every time
the lines worked
& I was allowed in
to look for a meter
I had no clue
how to read
I would visualize
being bashed
over the head
as I peered under
the stinking staircase
It didnt take long
for me to quit
from the first day
to the last
my supervisor was
asking about
& not receiving
his commission
itll come through
he would say
just a delay
further up the chain
The big boss
damn near scratched
my eyes out
in the office
over milk & eggs
because I didnt want
to work there anymore
but also because I wouldnt
flirt back or fuck him
no matter how much
free tapas & beer
overlooking
the harbor
some ten months later
a familiar mountain
of fleshy wet man
was weaving its way
through the crowd
in front of my table
I recognized the hair
the bothered
shuffle
he looked homeless
without his clipboard
unshaved unwashed
a lot less
optimistic
evidently
still waiting
on that commission
Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.