For Adam
Little miners riding starfish
are skinned to moonlight
both filipino both Irish
and warm pieces fall out
tolerances in our silhouettes
said to be turning
but you want to see them fawning
boiling grass painted garden butterflies
as the velcro sticks to decommissioned
postmans jackets, paradigm
just enough so it could be barely anything else
and the history of work
is in my mouth from leftovers
beautiful hegelian friends levitating
imbalances just hope that glow filled
blood on moonbeams is yours,
and yours alone
so bend plea-filled
& prowl bedside
the pleb seedling
in my mouth is from leftovers
the history of work
you cannot see the other side of
a resume curriculum vitae
folded artificial hillocks
between coal drops yard
and waitrose leads blind effigies
to burning soufflés
