Musings from the mouth that stutters 25 Feb 2010

.. ..

.. ..

The clicking hands,

that blunt blades ride,

pick the marrow out

of what’s left inside

-of broken computers,

the back-logged taste,

honey-in-a-pinecone,

white collar waste.

.. ..

Well outside of

caged in shops.

Well below

the abandoned lofts.

Well away

from voyager miles,

exquisite stitching

and winning smiles.

.. ..

‘top cardboard beds

In worn through socks,

and pavement lungs

with loaded coughs

and crawling sweat-

that crawls through beds

that crawls around arms

that crawls through heads.

.. ..

From an old white beard

in a bedside gutter,

come musings from

the mouth that stutters.

-and an ancient voice

telling day-old stories,

mistakes evening’s deal

for quick stop glories.

.. ..

Night’s curtains draw closed

and strange stray dogs arrive on queue

but there is no blood and fat,

under the devils hat

so they keep on walking

right on through.

-Theokyo

A coffee shop in Kingsland, Auckland.

Tascos on Vulcan street, 8:15pm. The last few customers and I

From the second story window of the Auckland City Library.

Albert Park, 1pm.

4pm

“A sure cure for seasickness is to sit under a tree” -Spike Milligan

walking through forests of clocks thinking about other times