Category: Sonnets (page 2 of 8)

i’m not sure why your windows are all shut
said a man with a beer gut & tan don’t you
know that the change’s coming sooner than
you think (but we all shook our heads had
some more to drink (it dulled that impulse
to get political (switch off the interpol man!
when the change comes it’s going to flatten
the pane trigger dissolutions & cause storm
water drains to overflow (i said clancy stop
complaining o he had a hornet in his bonnet
damned expensive it was to remove a bang
or a buck or a vote or a bigot or a luvvie ha
from where i’m standing it looks quite grim
pray for a change & then learn how to swim

the sky’s gone orange mining & we’re left to
wander (i’m waiting for a change in a tunnel
filled with gas panic someone flipped me the
bird it was a canary (shortly dead & the day
remained sunny (zero chance of rain gauged
delays were spattered with faux frustration
& pule & it continued to shine that great big
dumb orange ball in the sky while the moon
mooned made of marzipan absorbing wishes
irritating mangy dogs (the senator on speed
dial says share & share alike (i like the idea
of that santa it’s another sunny day & santa
check this out i’m from an ageing generation
yes we all are (think about the sunny nation

she rains heavy & she rains late i syndicate
the weather & report with coffee like a tiny
brown moon circling in the white cup made
with two hands holding clouds up at sunset
her eyes are red the rain falls heavy on the
bedroom floor puddles of rain to hold down
the fumes we ride through shiny streets &
eradicate base as cover bands play original
tunes rivers of beer run back towards their
kegs the kurds all speak with irish accents
here the skies are crowded & something is
about to happen though who knows in this
vacuum we call fate floats a gigantic flower
speckled with the drops of pure sea power

who will harbour you when the seas erupt
harbour when the grave is shallow & leaks
who willed this place of calm into being it’s
a small harbour when the shots ping & hit
i will harbour you when the minister won’t
harbour you when all protest fails & build
you an asylum if it costs me my life it will
harbour us then take us in when the water
is spiked & our children are removed then
that cage will become a disappearing boat
& night shall guard it carrying bright torcs
we’ll keep birds there & collect the rain in
our mouths silver songs of the sky the sea
of silence (i will harbour you like a refugee

that place where we all someday hope to die
or rot at least (our skins like autumn leaves
a shelf or two devoted to each mind aloof or
in solidarity with those whose fame exceeds
our own (no matter now this system lets us
alphabetise our names as privilege leans on
the obscure & the vain support the humbled
yes the catalogue protects it gives each of us
some space in which to rest canonised alone
awaiting the three miracles the beatification
in some heavenly curriculum (of ars poetica
each brailled punchcard touched by hands &
returned to its drawer the air’s conditioned
interprets you (guard against the lonely dew