Safe for the boost, land rover

Strung up, between two places

the return of and the departure, arrival of a lonesome ghost

Pressed for time and shaken up a bit. Lots of shadows and

the sun grab the belly of a huge tree; growing down out

of the sky into an open pit of grass and stones, cut roughly

into paths, guiding all away from the other tree, the sick one.

If there is nothing, then I am it, and the trapped clouds,

hooked on pine needles give their best pathetic spasm in the air.

It's best to get the pleasure in, quickly, before you realise nothing

is real and everything you believe in is dust on a piano-key, the only

leg-up you'll ever need is your own.

Catford shot past me and I heard a man shout, a woman shout

and then, the man's dog shouted, which was loudest and scariest of all.

They shut themselves up and all were glum, under a pall which

remained there for days until the sun lifted it and their sins,

Local moods became jubilant.

Another day, as I passed Catford on the train, sprayed on a high wall was,

'safe for the boost, land rover'

Community is real and you have to believe in it.

We are all full of it. Even those of us who are predominantly empty.

You're too tough, or you're too weak. The sky; solid, the ground is a

hole. A tortoise on its back, a tortoise on its front.