fleeting

Where a Placard Reads, ‘Come Closer. We Don’t Want You Watering Your Shoes.’

So he went off to get his feet nibbled by colourful fish

Let’s play Guess Who. Bats see with sound or not at all

The stranger was me; I was the stranger to the hour.

Samuel Johnson’s word for bat returns to me at sundown, beneath a screeching cloud.

The Arctic seeps through an open carriage window

That reactor, says Ivan, is deliverance. Will spawn new words.

Dear Telepath, here at my makeshift bureau, I’m trying my hand at a picturebook

I miss the empty night in the city, the wiped clean surface of the road

In an attempt to prove that God didn’t exist, I filled a bucket with water

The Oxford buggers mostly are the worst…

it doesn’t matter what I call you peter-paul-joseph-aleksandr-potemkim