<last days of summer | Cambridge | 2015> clinging

A serene wreckage | A ship of flowers | the dry | carcases of wasps and bees | kings and queens | come apart from their coffins | and the coffins | memories stirred | start to remember | their cedar, remember | their oak

In-fill of heat | Allotments round the back | of housing associations | Pocket gardens | Sunlight


The water cold, the mariners | bracing themselves | for the long swim | to no known shore…

Lovers, too

Young children cry for the continents | of mothers and fathers

Floating clouds of islands…

Broken transport | sheds seeds of journeys | and arid beachcombers | study flotsam and jetsam | washed up from | lost voyages

Late literary lion | where castaways | plunge and tumble through surf | towards hot sand

Sun’s mane

Sun’s roar

Jungle lifeline | compasses | drift to the bottom of the sea

The naked | reach for their clothes

salt in their sleeves | and in their hair

they tumble half awake | into a mainline station

The north | calls…

from the series hypergrammar (open-ended, 2012–present)