insertpoemhere.blogspot.com
< insert poem here >: Magic in November
http://insertpoemhere.blogspot.com/2006/11/magic-in-november.html
Tuesday, November 21, 2006. There - among the yellow-green of the leaves, he levitates. Five floors up in open air: right and left he strolls, roaming at will through London trees. This way and that, fearless and free - wrapped up, in a dance with the breeze. A miracle sight, this one floating human! Posted by Tom Chivers at 12:58 AM. If i had a floating human peeping through the bedroom windows of my former apartment (third floor), i would've screamed my jammies off. Where have you been? Ode to a roofer!
hungbunny.blogspot.com
hungbunny: I'm Not A Racist, But...
http://hungbunny.blogspot.com/2007/07/im-not-racist-but.html
Monday, July 09, 2007. I'm Not A Racist, But. If the good people of Lewisham want to dress up in white robes and scare the shit out of this monstrous harridan when she gets evicted from the Big Brother house, they have my blessing. Posted by hungbunny at 4:19 pm. You're not going to take the piss out of him for watching big brother (OBSESSIVELY, might I add? This is no fun, I'm not playing. Unless he was WUI of some primo sensi - in that case all is excusable. Limerick, please provide final line:. I know...
insertpoemhere.blogspot.com
< insert poem here >: January 2007
http://insertpoemhere.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html
Wednesday, January 31, 2007. When trudging through exit after emergency exit. Through carriage after dirty empty carriage. Through the litter and white light of a whole tube train. Through the black of the earth in the black of a tunnel. Hundreds of metres under the city of London. Wondering what changed world awaits you at the platform. Wondering what war has started, which lives lost,. Where the blood is spilt, what buildings are gone,. What poisons swim in the air, what will the survivors do.
insertpoemhere.blogspot.com
< insert poem here >: October 2006
http://insertpoemhere.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_archive.html
Wednesday, October 25, 2006. Tap-water, grimy and dank, maintains the posing flowers like a pretty corpse, on the dead wood of the table-top. Domestic life, under the fizz of electric light. Envious all of the outside: where blankets of rain make sculpture, make symphony, of the dark, London night. Who can compete with that plash and pulse? Posted by Tom Chivers at 1:09 PM. Sunday, October 22, 2006. They look almost dead, flat out on Cathedral steps. Noon Summer heat. A solace of scraps in shadows? And i...
insertpoemhere.blogspot.com
< insert poem here >: February 2007
http://insertpoemhere.blogspot.com/2007_02_01_archive.html
Thursday, February 15, 2007. Miles under the ocean live the Angler Fish. Inflated to the size of a balloon, the female gropes across the dark of the sea floor. Desperate daily to feed herself and her eggs - she lives her whole life searching, groping, grabbing; desperate her whole life amid that empty, perpetual night. A tenth the size, barely the size of your little finger, the male is born dumb, blind, weak and indifferent. But, he is blessed with one wish. Posted by Tom Chivers at 1:23 AM.
insertpoemhere.blogspot.com
< insert poem here >: November 2006
http://insertpoemhere.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html
Tuesday, November 21, 2006. There - among the yellow-green of the leaves, he levitates. Five floors up in open air: right and left he strolls, roaming at will through London trees. This way and that, fearless and free - wrapped up, in a dance with the breeze. A miracle sight, this one floating human! Posted by Tom Chivers at 12:58 AM. Wednesday, November 01, 2006. A curled fist formed of a thousand fingers, each the parched colour of cracked mud. Most ugly of plants, albeit arch-survivor. Chase Me, Ladies.
