You can learn a lot of things about women
from racy novels; most of it untrue. A day
browsing in a boutique is more instructive;
trends wax and wane but the life you think
suits you best is always just out of reach.
You can learn a lot of things about women
from racy novels; most of it untrue. A day
browsing in a boutique is more instructive;
trends wax and wane but the life you think
suits you best is always just out of reach.
poetryscotland.com/submissions/
poetryscotland.com/submissions/
I was in love with the idea of a woman,
a creation in medium shot, half insoluble,
half incendiary. Eventually, the camera
caught her in close-up, a picture of
disfigurement I once mistook for beauty.
I was in love with the idea of a woman,
a creation in medium shot, half insoluble,
half incendiary. Eventually, the camera
caught her in close-up, a picture of
disfigurement I once mistook for beauty.
projectabeonapoetry.substack.com/p/transmissi...
projectabeonapoetry.substack.com/p/transmissi...
Just when I thought the song was over,
a voice like a bank of smog rolled in,
fogging the road with a grey wisdom,
a melody it would be so easy to ignore,
driving us where we hope to follow.
Just when I thought the song was over,
a voice like a bank of smog rolled in,
fogging the road with a grey wisdom,
a melody it would be so easy to ignore,
driving us where we hope to follow.
It took two minutes twenty-eight seconds
to write this. Hardly a big job; the time
it takes to annihilate an absurd world
with a sight gag or a joke from a show
we assumed someone else had written.
It took two minutes twenty-eight seconds
to write this. Hardly a big job; the time
it takes to annihilate an absurd world
with a sight gag or a joke from a show
we assumed someone else had written.
We thawed out at the same moment: you
from the bliss of cryogenic slumber, into a
universe of cut-price skywalkers; I into too
much reality, too many earthbound futures,
unwinnable battles, unkissable Princesses.
We thawed out at the same moment: you
from the bliss of cryogenic slumber, into a
universe of cut-price skywalkers; I into too
much reality, too many earthbound futures,
unwinnable battles, unkissable Princesses.
onedroppoetry.substack.com/p/one-drop-s...
onedroppoetry.substack.com/p/one-drop-s...
Met a guy at the Electric Banana
who offered me a part in his movie;
maybe waiting tables, an extra in a
courtroom scene, a lonely novelist.
I asked what he wanted from me;
I want answers, he said. I want truth.
Met a guy at the Electric Banana
who offered me a part in his movie;
maybe waiting tables, an extra in a
courtroom scene, a lonely novelist.
I asked what he wanted from me;
I want answers, he said. I want truth.
We are all middlebrow now,
in thrall to he said she said,
the touchable worlds of love,
whether imagined or illicit,
or sometimes even true.
Someone should write this
down; we may be touched by
the significance of small things.
We are all middlebrow now,
in thrall to he said she said,
the touchable worlds of love,
whether imagined or illicit,
or sometimes even true.
Someone should write this
down; we may be touched by
the significance of small things.
Welcome to the extravaganza;
Hollywood in a Glasgow studio,
a man with a thousand voices,
none of them his own, and yet
all of them. Parliamo Tinseltown,
parliamo the lingua franca of joy.
Welcome to the extravaganza;
Hollywood in a Glasgow studio,
a man with a thousand voices,
none of them his own, and yet
all of them. Parliamo Tinseltown,
parliamo the lingua franca of joy.
projectabeonapoetry.substack.com/p/transmissi...
projectabeonapoetry.substack.com/p/transmissi...
A book is the best way
to travel; a paperback
is a seat in First Class,
a gold card. Live a life
you could never afford,
where nothing is perfect
but everything balances
at the turn of a final page.
A book is the best way
to travel; a paperback
is a seat in First Class,
a gold card. Live a life
you could never afford,
where nothing is perfect
but everything balances
at the turn of a final page.
Wind lifts the tin roof
on a forgotten cantina
down by the border.
A couple dance
by the jukebox.
A voice like añejo
carries over the desert;
please let her know
that I’m well.
Wind lifts the tin roof
on a forgotten cantina
down by the border.
A couple dance
by the jukebox.
A voice like añejo
carries over the desert;
please let her know
that I’m well.
onedroppoetry.substack.com/p/one-drop-f...
onedroppoetry.substack.com/p/one-drop-f...
What if we could make our buildings dance,
screw them up like rejected blueprints, fold
their planes into curves and corrugations?
It might be possible to twist dreams inside out,
and turn these meditations into a metropolis.
What if we could make our buildings dance,
screw them up like rejected blueprints, fold
their planes into curves and corrugations?
It might be possible to twist dreams inside out,
and turn these meditations into a metropolis.
They put a band together for you -
guitar, bass, drums, keys - tight,
and sharp, all the right moves,
like thunder, lightning, all new
licks made entirely out of light
by the Colonel of the groove.
They put a band together for you -
guitar, bass, drums, keys - tight,
and sharp, all the right moves,
like thunder, lightning, all new
licks made entirely out of light
by the Colonel of the groove.
onedroppoetry.substack.com/p/one-drop-f...
onedroppoetry.substack.com/p/one-drop-f...
There is a factory by the Thames
where men are wrought from iron,
a number branded into their back,
a dream of Saturday beaten into
a breastplate with an old hammer.
There is a factory by the Thames
where men are wrought from iron,
a number branded into their back,
a dream of Saturday beaten into
a breastplate with an old hammer.