they were both coming to a head.

*

I sat lip reading the news.

*

the weather was a tangling mess with the middle east.

*

we were in the cheap season of strawberries.

*

I could thread my breast into the mouth of a million

sons but only having one was lucky enough.

for my breast.

*

when a chinook is about to fall

you see your son in pumpkin patch

& treasures in clarity

as if he were washed in rainlets.

*

some blonde chic was picking off her kids

from the school gateway ~ the green forest

SUV pumped in idle.

*

one day you’re gonna wake to a day that’s not there

& goodnite oil.

*

I had spoke to my radio

Radio I said

tell me the one about ali baba

& his little wee lamp.

*

somedays are about petrol & mana news.

it’s surprising how long it takes to drain yourself fully.

*

& somedays just fly.

still. a chinook

comes to rest on the sand of trouble.

*

all day this is Friday.

& one mother is off to get her one kid

in her ford e f explorer

with her wheels on the curb

& the knockout blink of the hazards.

*

I fed angelo victor his nearly last breast

with 18 pearl teeth

to the hopping of the chinook from my radio.

*

& then into the mouth of

this morning I nicola wright.

thank you I love your tone.

*

& the streaming

of where the world is at.

a chinook & a missile hang out.

*

& this is the only time you will say

your radio was making a mess of the day.

believing your liver is rich

You are under no illusion.

You are the fever at 40 degrees

C.

From off of the ceiling in your bedroom

are the plastic stars who fluoresce.

Today you thumb no to soup from the duvet.

You are the radio in wishing dreams.

You are the News & the Weather.

& Mary Kisler & Stanley Spencer.

You are the line –

Heaven in Cookham.

You are Nicola Wright & the Central Plateau.

You were Sean Plunket for his name alone.

You are snow lowering one minute.

& tropic the next.

Really – you are all over the heart & agog.

Trying to locate your liver

who is rich & intricate

with all the drugs a virus can eat.

Bob

Bob is a Day Job.

He was a quote just the same.

*

His number & the price of labour

was the square root of any fat digit

you can think of.

*

Have you ever noticed

how people will give you their fax just like that.

Hi i am Bob – Fax. Your Tree is seventy in cambium. Call me.

*

Bob of the cardiac address.

Bob of the radio the size of a small truck

with enough decibels to fill your street.

Bob off the station – you know all scratchy.

*

Bob in recap took our tree by lunch down –

which is quick if you’re the counting sort.

& all the birds looking for their night home gone.

*

woke

Time is white

& the baby came in a new season