THERE ARE THREE

ARE THERE THREE

ARE THREE THERE

THREE THERE ARE

the air show

the air show       sky       where

every child’s jaw hangs agape

at the end of the longest pointing finger

for there never was a blue sky so torn 

by the rip of jet engines flaring

in all the colours of all the eyes

they ate the whole wide sky

impussible

I can read my cat 

                           just like a book

she can lead me  

                               with just one look 

mower fodder

mower fodder

the mower killed

     the daisies

          the frogs

               the slow worms

and it is killing me

mellow meadow 

tell me please

all about the bees

and the wind in the trees

the buttercup days

in daisies chained 
convoluted high in
convolvulus skies

lay the mower-man under his sods

and sing your heart unto the blue

how much litter can

a litter picker pick

if a litter picker can’t pick cans

the gestation of terror

the gestation of terror

a plastic doll with fluttering eyes 

in the ruptured uterus of the earth

the plastic caesarean scalpel tries

but fails to weep at another still birth 

in clingfilm wrapped

and so beautifully delivered

    another still birth
 in the oven that is the earth

      another still birth

        another still birth 

in the oven that is the earth

man on the moon

man on the moon

man, oh man on the moon,

of all the moons, in all the universes,

and you had to take one giant dump on mine.

manage a small step over it,

bag it,

the pale blue dot,

on a clear night with a telescope

you can just see it.

from the moon, even on a cloudy night,

the whole world is a bag of …