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Clincher and others

Duncan Jones leads off our national poetry day things with poems for the not so faint-hearted

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by Duncan Jones, for outsideleft.com
Nettled palms keep skew whiff time...

Clincher

Baby bird rasps from the oak tree by the painted shed

A sky is folded up to near ink blue

Nettled palms keep skew whiff time

By the pines three tones ascending one two three

Whatever you tell yourself is untrue

 


 

Dead mirror

See thru ball rests

on the solid water

 

Flesh mass jogging

Ardour armour over

 

One lump hammer

Hanging from a tree

 


 

From Route Traces


Hail, Holy Queen!

        The C in CUNT

        Looks as if

        Writ in sleep.

In Monday crawl

Air is thick and sour.

        Maybe a hand slipt.


© 2020 Duncan Jones

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Duncan Jones

Duncan has lived and worked in Birmingham for over forty years. He does things with words and pictures.

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