action stations's blog

chip chip chip

goes the chisel on

i can feel the bits

peel off, it's

chipping

and underneath is blue and red and

yello

i underestimate the skin of you

the

hands are wrapped in

bubble wrap one

under the tracks one

under the rockery

i keep on with my

tool

hit a line

and blood like a tree goes

-kapow

it's all well green

it would seem &

down comes the sun

into my wintry lap

i see the first

girls with straps &

naked arms

gooseflushed as april

flesh in patterned

leaves

why when for so long

the dark clears to this

bell-clear morning

would my heart hang so

heavy in the

branches of that

budding space?

and in the sound of the crank

of summer &

dusting off of candlelight

the spastics on the telly put me off my mince pie

i looked round to see granny's teeth

"tinsel is a snake" i said, but

they didn't hear me

(over the queens peach-

which rose out of the wrapping

like a statue)

hear me out i say

i'm here with this aftershave what

you've got me

the bottle is a man with a cock

like a toblerone

it's confusing

and smells mainly of

tears

but in a way

it's just what i've always

wanted

 
 
 
i ran into an industrial estate and looked around
the spikes got me

i opened my eyes to the exchange rate
it was no good