Another Delirium

Who will wear the turkey crown

for the people coming home for Christmas?

come home

 

the words written in the dirt

of unwashed winter vehicles

on poorly lit routes

could they show the way?

(no)

 

I have no industrial past

I’m just some kind of penis

 

grief as mental illness

mental illness as grief

 

you lost tribe

man your crannogs

woman your canoes

shoulder your loving

 

hey you damned

get ready for the fever

of your revelation

Conditional

Find my voice

short films in small dark rooms

former Archive Office

in a castle

that’s never a former castle

 

 

they hypnotise

make me think that employment

is a kind of life support

that’s in effect switched off

on receipt of a P45

they hypnotise

 

 

I think of the past

imagining the workers disappearing

the rulers search for them

in their hovels

the servants’ quarters

but they can’t be found

 

 

who will replace them?

Time in a Box

Not enough hours in my lunch hour

need to understand colours better

 

drive a fast Celtic chariot

around and around and around

an empty Boxing Day supermarket car park

 

shout communication over hedges

pile up blankets

adopt a tigress

you’ll never meet

in a country you’ll not return to