Minarets

I numbered the pages to remind me of my place. I was afraid of joining the ranks of distracted lovers from whom nothing is safe: …

We are asking all members of the public / to be on the lookout for / a bluff, chuffed eager geezer / who’s got the unearned charm of a stolen hotel towel…

Once You Have Chosen a Headstone for the Last of Each Species of Rosa Please Choose from the Following Inscriptions and Symbols: …

Three girls at a table in the Market Bar with an overpriced jug of sangria. / Sometimes words are enough. Sometimes memory isn’t.

I will outline a light switch / in black so you won’t miss it. How / the pendulum swings with the / sun in your eyes. The hung crystal / in the window refracts faint greys, / blues, yellows.

…we’re playing parts, but i wouldn’t act / in any other bullshit play.

My new formula for grief: who might survive, who, with hammer, might crucify.

My favourite podcast is about the end of the world / It’s the big new thing happening. / It is already happening.

I could come closer to tickling / the neurons, pulling them a // part, making       connections / between the benevolence of a // bright summer’s day     and     my inability / to perceive reality       accurately . . .

and the oily rainbow aura on the spirit cluster flakes off / as the treatment fades while I still alone and addicted // to new knowledge in my liquid crystal display

Humility / Taken on the rocks / With double shot and / Uber driver waiting. . .

a weighty jewel of a sun-bound / harkening, reaches (again) the memory / & malady of a doubtable god, part- / unseen, emergent. // On kite wings, we qualify.

Your hands are like fists all the time now. Lick the webbing / between your cats’ toes and wish they could set you right. / Know that they never can.