Tim Wright

on garnet and tinning

like you said about that umbrella
‘impressively fucked’
the day dangles out past its last leaf
growing tones
why remember those ports?
the age’s bragging turbines
it’s the next day now
a magpie moving like a cursor on the grass
i’m drinking wine and seawater
at the four moons
wattlebird = porpoise
humiliating pulse or memory fragment
bikes opinion
cars sulked on the side of the road
in adriatic glebe
say a cast appears — you ‘day’ into one
that makes a nice argot
and human squall signals
adduced sun, temperate
bits of broken up brick
and muted surf
one gallops on, more like a nation now
its bloodshot maps
just-perceptible gradient
the core loosens . .
bore water stains on asbestos
evidence — tobacco fleck
and tamped down generationally

Tim Wright's collection Suns will be published in 2018.
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