Friday 20 May 2022



Vet four-finger handcuffs 

we live out pissed communiqu├ęs 

too shrewd for doctrine

or empanelments of justice 

fingersnap Sir Cop & Cross-Party 

QC all the violent deeds glow under liquid 

& flow down a throng of orderlies

cardcarry whose polity revolves 

around dotted capon nationalism

& barons carve-up Ossulston Estate,

read it in the Irish Post & perambulate

from Barbados to Brazil 

reading Karl Marx all day 

under a tree dilate & bury 

mud rose red notes a face,

wilted orchids a box of tissues 

& taste 5000 marks 

for the crown across the spillway,

feather history to perforated stone

government policy norman yoke 

cut red tape halve the bill

to rex his mouth shilled out 

gangways the job pissed town 

is yours in a sports bag.

To the soul in Paracetamol & gin

evening nights penned flares Kropotkin 

ie. fundless strange animal 

exploding firebox hurt 

my cacodylic eye go back 

behind a rust packet,

talk a way into this suffering city 

make scalding light    

crannies over London croustade

block Druid mouth 

whipped low by brashes, 

on ancient service long horn 

stand on bought flowers

20mg on Charlton Street 

behind the gates on kerbside 

stamp urine rivulets for fun

1240 go blind run amongst

lost nattered walls

et mon droit on all the earth 

the British people voted, they voted 

l'accumulateur de mon coeur

they voted to be free quarterly by heart 

one good fact to cut a hole &shit apart.  

& Die Hard in broken indices

forlorn pale white ash 

as cities high emotion beta portfolios 

fly over absent from midnights,  

mound or hill militating 

all the way round 

poesie stiffs in starflowered halls 

class collaborating

phouka in fern trees all the glistening bottles 

in lay-bys I love&love forever & ever

pillboxed mob you justly explode 

the Home Counties are your equinox 

softly quiet where beyond my head 

& all my life 

Thursday 19 May 2022


All profits go to Poets Hardship Fund!

Friday 13 May 2022



I’ve got a few author copies of 




For £8.91 (NMW prior to 04/22) including postage to RoW/UK/EU. 

Paypal is, 

just drop address in the message.

Or email


Joseph Minden said it best:


It’s 1688: Michael Richard Weatherley stalks the countryside

with eyeholes squatted by William of Orange and half your sick pay. 

It’s 1834: the whole heritage lash of 

Dominic Raab’s tongue is a shell company located,

illegally, inside Peter Cruddas, Baron Cruddas. It’s 1861: 

the Special Demonstration Squad infiltrates 

the alphabet wearing dead children’s names as faces. 

Where names are repossessed in order to gaslight

and murder, murder must be resurrected as the summons, 

the cursing, the bitter apostrophe of naming. 

From splinters of the enemy language – 

is the ‘spy gash’ a wound, a mouth or an eye? –

Cole Denyer forms an ‘improvised weapon’ of sanctions, 

fences, sections and letters. But the sounds of this venom spill

out a counter-spell of such melody you will wonder 

if it is a shard you have in your teeth or the best part of a hymn.


Thanks to Robert Kiely at VEER2 for putting it out 

& the patience in the back and forth. 

Max Fletcher for the incendiary cover 

& Joshua Hart for the front cover typography.


Or can head over to Veer & get a copy there: