NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE they spy the hole in the cloud & dream He lies for the sun smiles & shadows play the waves of grass;  & nothing changes.  She thinks.  Time’s constructed from bits, remnants the river flings; is aware bare paws pad the shore. There are gods here also

NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE I want my poems to hurt you  cut your cheeks like a Sheffield razor  make you cry like the day you punched   her bedroom wall –   she should have framed it  shown it to your mother  taken a photo with your Leica M3   and

There were two ways I could get to school: 1. Walk past about 10 houses to Harding Street corner, turn left, past Barry the butcher, the greengrocers; Con and Maria, the blue-fronted shop which was always closed, continue straight down for a block till you hit Nicholson St.  Turn left,

NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE Sprat  fizz under the current like  a school of ghost thumbs. I tie my hook to the end of the line knot a sinker and cast into the lapping.  We feed chicken liver to the sea like  magicians with handkerchiefs and top-hats. The sprat suck the bait

NEXUS CREATIVE SPACE the head is the stain of blood run from my nose to the sheet beneath the neck is the whip that lashes the back to shreds of paper that blow the shoulders are the shelves that hold the knowledge the breasts are the bags for the rocks

NEXUS CREATIVE Send the young ones first The prospects The fodder Feed them stories Of heroic conquest Utu and uppers pick a colour black or red pink is not  welcome here and white is for pussies point out enemy plug-in carnage target the weak circle back reassess take downers  sleep