T H E
V I S U A L B I G
C O N S T R U C T S
L O V E L Y
N O T H I N G
Hyde Pa rk Sonn et The roads that I trawl have wrapped shingle around my shoes. The colour, the shape, the symmetry, Oh what symmetry! The houses that frown, the rows of bins, always full never empty, never gone, always plenty. The shroud of black that capes the roof tops. and the comforting smell of shit that tells me Iâ€™m almost home.
Tu l ips Swallow hard, shards of mirror, c t h
churning, ridged and trapped tulips.
The little mouse that scurried and his only friend the monkey went to space solely for the purpose of drinking tea.
How long have I been blind, Sophia? to the kitchen sink, to my shirt sleeves that are stained yellow, to the erratic toll of church bells that decorate the drawl of the extractor fan and to the red door we had both grown so fond of.
A bout t ur n the reâ€™s a peddl e r i n the church.
Dami en k n ig ht l e y