out early
watering the roses
before the sun burns them
I scratch my neck
and dislodge a bee
drunk already
*
next weekend’s
council pick-up
has grown a fair crop
fringing the road
on browning verges
of white goods
stained lounges
broken bikes and office chairs
that won’t hold office
anymore
*
I have measured my life
in teaspoons of decaf
*
evening comes
and young boys
punch the shit out of
the washing machine
which once washed their nappies
leaving the white pedestal
standing
arse-up
*
all creatures have
Buddha-nature
except bored boys
(with apologies to Gary Snyder & TS Eliot)
Andrew Burke
Bard of Bassendean
|