Iain Britton


                visuals overtly show

a vehicle / brand new / 8 cylinders of grunt

has made it from Japan invaded our patch

a billboard presentation

for the always hungry the always looking for the next fatted calf

competitors enter at their own risk


there’s no room for hesitation

for the paltry smiler

the tentative player of a fortune teller’s predictions

of one’s next step or where tomorrow will be at 11pm
or if the son of a father might be swinging from a plank
a daughter folding the clothes of St Joan St Agnes
or pulling out the arrows of Sebastian for souvenirs


history has a habit of going rotten between the legs

the closer I stick my nose

the further I chase the perfumes of angels

the harder any resolution seems


you compare us one against the other

to variant strains

I look at you

it’s to do with fundamental regulations

painted on tin / plastic /

on the skulls and bony off-cuts

that flower annually

on the smoked and shrunken precepts

rammed into the edifices

of individuals

basking in the sun


I steel myself against the kamikaze hordes

your promiscuity

the running with the naked through streets

the naked in parks

the white storm clouds gathering

I’ve been accused of writing my name in water

a see-thru worship

difficult to hold

to cup in my hands


I’m told

some large silvery ball
is supposed to splash into the lake

send up columns of spray

a no-man’s ladder

advertising military hardware

sodden-red fields

and a chaplain’s grace


a train

comes through the middle of my house


huddle against windows

bare feet flatten the forests the valleys

shouts reverberate

I’m told

consent forms must be completed

and cell numbers given

a brochure full of ecstasy pronounces
the final frontier

and a man-mountain prises open his chest
and the train plunges inwards


are picked over by soldiers banging on doors

they ask questions

demand more for dragging you outside

for observing how we behave

they demand their slice of beef

the future has a habit of hiding
rags to riches

between the legs

Iain Britton's poetry has been published widely in NZ and Australia and elsewhere. New ebook published by The Red Ceilings Press (UK), 2011. Oystercatcher Press (UK) published his 3rd collection in 2009. Kilmog Press his 4th in 2010.
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