2020

Sun after rain

 

 

A plane signs its name

On a whole page of blue

 

 

Is this London

Or Lampedusa 

Guv? Time for a

 

 

Run, run, every day

(Muesli, meditation, 

Scars of auto-flagellation)

 

 

Foamy shoes

Pound the suburb

Neighbour — FaceTime

IRL

 

 

(What’s that smell?

A wood burner — in June?)

 

 

Into the trees —

Wimbledon common

Looks Cascadian

Sings Arcadian

 

 

Everything’s green

Or brown

Or anxious

Or blue

 

 

And the puddles thin

On the dirt’s dry spring:

A bounce of mud

A Rasul of mud

 

 

(That smell again.

Something’s burning

For sure)

 

 

Butterflies, parakeets

Pestilence, war:

The trees have breathed it 

All before

 

 

— Except a jogger

With his head on fire

A middle aged man

Jogging, jogging

With his head on fire

 

 

Lock the camera

To third person view —

VR jogger 2:

This time it’s incendiary

 

 

Steadicam the running

Burning, modern man

 

 

See the seethe

Of his Molotov head

The orange rage

In the soothing shade

 

 

See his wake

Of tallow smoke —

The way it ghosts

His rolling gait

Way it spreads

Like Covid breath

 

 

(Black’s the new

Heatmap. You know)

 

 

See the holes

In his charcoal skull

The white-hot brain

Glowing through

 

 

AAAAAAAAARRRGHH!!

 

 

He doesn’t scream

As he cruises trails

At 5 mins / km

(Says his Garmin)

Jogging, jogging

With his head on fire