Battery hens say Clapton is God

And a friendly reminder, as of April 2017, my first collection – BONE INK – is available for order from Guillotine Press. This is one of the poems that didn’t make it into the collection.


Battery hens say Clapton is God

Hens mutter, from this distance all I hear 

is discontent’s white sheet. I keep away, 

a force in the noise winds

my armature of worry.

The skink in my pocket squirms.

I ride, quick as I can

through the noise, pedals a circle blur. On Wrights Rd

I always look

 – Clapton is God –

spray painted on a corrugated tin shed. 

This is the first of a few scraps from 2015 that I’ll post over the next two or three weeks. Most are pieces I have a fondness for but really don’t think they’re going any further. 



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