Story

A book’s a book,

where angels

tiptoe in between

twenty six letters

(already corrected)

laughing aloud at fixation.

After all the indignity

of editing by editors,

an inject squirts

a story out of no thing

and angels from a soulful place

dance – here and there – out among

the twenty six, flowing a

Technicolor  dream.

Catch

He does this thing, Andrew,

- statistically different from me and you.

Shouting! Not to make you jump

- but simply for exuberance.

He looks you in the eye, expressing

excitement for any flash

of theatre, a piece of toast, a ray of sun.

Like, always it’s a Xmas or birth day

present moment

and, every time, a bead

of juice leaps from his heart

- into yours.

But only if you’re thirsty

and ready to catch.

Bathos

Today every habit will be cured,

every cliché – cut – to the quick.

Getting dressed,

I put my foot down,

pull my socks up;

put the boot in.

Wide awake a while,

I feed my folly, smile.