Map
it’s hard to start
new notebooks
so I usually fill
the first few pages
with my new addresses
& the name of the local
bar & station
which is Sonnenallee
quotes are also good
while the sun on the floor
of the library
creeps all the way up
to my shoes
I should’ve brought water
as well as a pen
the city’s full
of verdant spaces
but by the time I leave
they’re turning grey
& changing demographic
all the dirty lights come on
& sing among the heartbreaking
fragrances of hot vegetable oil
night walks
across the squares
& pages & a map
of the last town
I found in my back pocket
crossed with worn out creases
that open into gaps
Ramblin’
a bunch of pink & nosy roses
climbs in through the bedroom window
looks around in late May breeze &
wonders where you are while Jack
O’ Metty our lemon geranium falls
out of the bathroom window whenever
I open it to song courtesy of this fabulously
normal blackbird on the aerial opposite
& way above the place we put the bins
the day after we’re supposed to & somewhere
you are wearing clothes & talking
to the neighbours as the Brad Mehldau Trio
sways its way around a bend of its own making
before mooching along Eden Street Backway
the name of my first album
the days go by for the survivors & you
are now reclining in a European garden
relishing asparagus & Grüner Veltliner
well it’s nice to take the weight off your head
shoulders knees & toes to reflect
upon another complex spa experience
& all those layered shadows in the forests
dank & spongy airmax footfalls
hush: all ECM & siskin I nibble seasoned timber
nameless seeds & dented nuts & sample woody herbs
& as I water ravaged salad
I have the thought: why don’t we whistle too
you know just whistle whistle
whistle back