At the Backs of Shops and Houses
Aline horizontally, vertically and
Creating an on the wall,
Back Street, ‘ Boogie Woogie.’
Each rectangle a painting;
Blank, dull or just glowing.
Lighting up mornings,
Like a pinball machine
In shades of wattage
In unorganised colour.
A golden section
Of economics and imagination.
From the forthcoming book
Titled as the first line above.
Spread-eagled between taps and towel,
The mist of paradise rising
Through lagoons and bubbled islands.
Daytime wending it’s weary way
In rivulets through every pore.
Or not, to the radio.
Sipping tea and drawing on a slow cigarette,
Shoes improvising as an ash tray.
Maybe contemplating the day in the newspaper
Or considering phrases in a book.
Some will disapprove?
Even more so,
Languishing in my socks