When you left the windows open
and a bird got in
and shat everywhere
Because you had
been lazy that day
and boiled eggs in the kitchen
While watching Suits in the lounge
But the pot handle started melting
And the whole house smelled like plastic,
that is what you call
A bird poo day.
In soft lamp on my polyester pillow O wind blows… blood flows… Washed laundry waits Pensive and crumpled… Wanted texts halt my pen in surprise Ye charisma sings from the phone in my grasp Stirring a pulse within my ribs, The start of a sonnet… O thou lively gladiator, eros
O glossy black keyboard and turquoise bottle Black wireless mouse with a dark blue stripe My long-wired headset, notebook, Muji pen How all these things combine to give my desk its zen. Chomping carrots, floating thoughts I type my poems — wait, key messages... Life is cordial at the office:
Got up at six to go to Foxton Where we smelled a dead cow and blistered our hands. The double’s sun-strike, ice-cap, coral-blue beckoned Foxton's mud-brown current threatened. It was going to be a first time sculling together. The question was: Were we
