dockyard.diary (room number 2014)

I could return you to smoking pyre 

Like the y that replaced the i

i found you swearing at the water 

in it’s primary context obsession 

Was a reused liberty not far behind.


dwelling on a night away playing computer 

games on the flat packed dockyard ships 

I wrote the wreck that is a life.

Arachnids suits the pulmonary vessels 

It needs dragged from dockyards shadows 

the circles of floating children’s borrowed 

Winged shoes of the Victorian pasted paper 

waiting to be hung the cracked glass of 

Spent Ammo expression floodlighting.