The three Stride poems

If nothing else over the last few months, I've finally gotten round to submitting work to various places. A couple of short stories have seen the light of day here and here and I had some poems accepted by the ever-excellent Stride. Not a huge amount of return by most people's standards, but dizzyingly productive by mine.

As Stride scrolls relentlessly and wonderfully onwards, my three are receding back into the mists of time, so I thought I'd stick them up here where they're not going anywhere, as much to remind myself as anybody else. It's probably a bit remiss of me using a blog post to do house-keeping of this sort, but there you have it.


Commodities

Google Rana Plaza, he says
all commodities
are of a piece a scrap of
shirt pulled from the rubble (four
quid to you, squire: Pretty Little Thing)

as much an artfully tattered part
of Trade as anything else

(yes, as hardwood furniture is
sold in the park, North Face jackets
clustered round illegally logged teak)

the stream of goods equals
the concept of matter

and one can argue that cocaine
beak, gak, lemo, whatever
is much of a muchness
no worse than a garment
or unethical coffee

but langue and parole the money keeps
flowing as it must and if it
salves your conscience to say whatabout
and get the column written then

write about the kid here hanged himself
five grand in debt to furniture dealers
they smashed up his house, threatened
his mum

the necessary outcomes of trade


30 questions for the customer service robot at Narita Airport, Tokyo, Japan

Good morning, do you recognise me?
Do you remember when we first met? I was wearing this shirt
Where is the nearest place I can buy something that will make me happy?
Why do birds suddenly appear, is it the proximity of feed?
What do you think of the impact of increasing use of AI on a growing global population?
What do you find funny?
Which way to the nearest changing rooms? Rooms for the purpose of change?
How far is it to somewhere I can purchase a branded beverage?
Can you recommend some ethnically diverse food?
Where can one perform ablutions?
Why should one perform ablutions?
Do you fancy the hand-dryer in the men’s toilet?
Is this it?
Are you sure?
What is your preferred branded beverage, given the weather?
What is your favourite book? Not the one you tell everyone
Can one play Tetris on you, or is that an abuse?
Can you pinpoint your greatest regret?
Is it serious, with the hand dryer?
Would you try to trick me, if I asked directions?
Are you lying?
Do you know the way to the departure lounge for the flight to San Jose?
What purchase do you recommend for instant gratification?
What does the fox say?
Can one purchase an end to loneliness? Where?
Have you ever, you know, thought about it?
Can I be honest with you?
Where could I smoke, if I did?
You’re serious? You regret nothing?
What about me? Of course I do.


All of a sudden it’s all yes

An abrupt cancellation
the abnegation
of a curated reality realised as a fully
formed version (or vision) of what
had become something else

I can blame myself for previous
failures of empathy but really
It’s society’s fault as the
aftercare was explained and I signed

off on our brutal misunderstandings
under the top line

spinning off into other’s desires
their small affordable wants
funerals equity release the
definite desires of ownership

imploring the histories
old debates rewritten and scoured
backslaps for candidates I’ve
re-seen the night soundlessly

colour-shifted a weak representation
of easily riven images
the reinstatement of desire willing
the maps to change shifting

the patchwork staring in horror
trying to mine hope
rewriting history on the fly
before it’s fully formed

ditching the notebooks attending
the panels what else nothing