Stories from a train

Begin with context

(from an inner blank), all you’ve got

these last few days.

Open your mouth and start

to talk. Waggle your tongue and grate

a larynx, poke an index finger

away from the dyke and let out a flood;

a torrent of words that finally, finally,

finally, will have their say.

Winter: central heating;

Spring: try garden wall;

Summer: where you’ve been;

Autumn: snow and branches start to fall.

More fleeting than characters in any book,

twaddle-words fly fast and empty

up to a hole-in-the-sky without the need

for smoke and mirrors, or an aching heart.

Cake

Eat cake,

including all crumbs

until it’s gone.

Imagine cake again;

lingering but different.

So what? A miracle!

OK – contrived and somewhat

cherished by recent events

and stomach hydrochloric acid.

But despite what sages

hint; in that sweet mix, you and I – and you –

can have our cake, remember it too.

An inch of your life

One foot – a blur of sense

Two feet – reach and smile

Three feet – donkey’s hind legs

Four feet – run for shandy in the den

Five feet – parents fall from grace

Six feet – a time of fantasy and hair

Six feet – offspring in the womb

Five feet – piping whistle at the throat …