Something recently begun which threatens to be very long. Italics, bold type, subscripts and all are left out in the interest of
plain text. But poems have been asked for altho' I'm not sure in this beginning stage of what might be a small book lenghth piece
all will be clear. The poem includes collaboartive assistance from Victoria Robinson.

Best

Dave


FOUR-NINE_FOUR_OH

                     13

It is a story of she-curve and he-tall
And the line of street late and down
Of heads swapped when eyes closed
Its beginning forgotten, its middle
F
wOkun
n i R
   t MMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
less
      end

                      7

What I wanted was the undressed
Dressed but available, the flesh
Behind the bra, the transgress
Logos be with us, like it if I press?

                     37

When I was younger
this was happening to me
Domestic Violence cases So
Much Misery
it's pain and disruption
And anger and hate
before I realised What was
Happening it was too late

I felt trapped and scared and
Very alone and so fright
-ended but I dare not Moan
My head was a Mess
My body was bruised
It was a constant stress

To my Family and Freinds
I would say "I fell"
(I dare not tell)
I avoided them so no one would
see
The physical and emotional
pain He inflicted on me

He told me I was worthless
And no good
And I believe What he said
And people Listening to all the
lies He spread
but remember this you are
a person no matter what
they say:

It's him now that is suffering
at the end of everyday



                 XVIII

Between a bark and a snort
as the sunlight dusted the canal
mute swan sound.

                   6
           Uptown Girl

C17H21NO4 .. Broken. On the rocks.


                    46

They always sit at the back at the Central Hall. The elegance of its interior contrasts
PLEASINGLY with the plainness of the Methodist hymnal., the space it allows to
REFLECTION is not hinted by the nondescript and missable door. She whispers
People ask why I like this but when my son went inside I knew what church was for.

BISHOP Street was a bad scene oh two centuries ago. His eyes stroke her cheekbones
Then his head plunges in prayer. It is dark in there. Behind their pew on what could be
MISTAKEN for a pushchair rests, bagged, plasticly, transparently, a Farmer's Choice
Loaf (white), four cans of beer, a box of paper handkerchiefs and whatever else

Has the right to be there. Today's preacher she's chosen that odd one, the one about the
STEWARD and the bills, and who owes who what, it's a difficult one to ponder
As Mammon sits in a corner picking the today's service flowers (Tom and Betty Berry's):
S/HELOVES me, s/he loves me not. Render un-two two. Part that ye shall find.

                     4940

Crosswords. Crypotograms. Ciphers. Streets.
Lights behind blinds from Your Private Abode.

I have found a name for this poem. It is
Four-Nine-Four-Oh. Our Tune, you are told.

                      4 by 4 by

You're learning me/ all about steps/ and drainage grills/
like cattle grids/ cerebral palsy/ doesn't fit/ Walk On Frame




David Bircumshaw

Spectare's Web, A Chide's Alphabet
& Painting Without Numbers

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/