Take a tube node
in a nude robe,
make a rail stack
in a base rack,
sing a game toad
through a jail song,
breach a round fist
with a top hat.
Play a safe card
on a dud horse,
race a small car
down a kind alley,
case a large joint
with a ham held
to a stock pot of
cruelling liquorish rum.
Wish a roast catch
from a soft patch
taken to far, time
backed when cradle
scratched the timber
drawn silver in the
dust of crime hatched
warm in the sabre’s den.
Clam a tenth hole
with a skin flack
near a petal pen
written soft on a clothes
vine to make it
read cool through the
breeze of toasting wine.
Leave a mean coin fifty for
a pint of frozen, delivered
promptly at the smack of
dawn to the raw step cold
of the door, ready to wield
the whinge and make people
within soft with calf-juice,
woken up from this dream.
Being Every Day 