Blossom Hibbert


alarm rings incessantly 

why did you sound the alarm?
i like your jumper
               	not your pregnant wife
stairs get left behind going cold developing a 
curdled skin to slip when           running higher 
from the back hand of the day

clock does not brush his own hair. when i told you to
go i didn’t mean for you to go so i pressed
the alarm of regret/ panic/ bewildered wreckage

buildings stumped by their own makers protect me from
fog and wind and rain	  windows cease to exist outside	
               	what do songs
do with all that sodden time?
	
               	i lost
                                                            				a love
dog wears his fine coat with loose buttons and i wait for my brothers
arrival at the	 station whisper to myself
“i never pressed that alarm”



poem #442

ageing inside a body that is not mine. cant
walk on anymore knowing nothingness. should i wait to see you in a little while
               	is that it?
               	not                awake 
               	sleeping inside my stable studying
               	mineral water under thin ice 
hold a lit cigarette to	break	 it	 free
 at least one of us can be at ease. either you or me
who do you pick	
water says nothing but refuses to age and infuriates me to the point
               	stamp on ice
               	water
               	[                              ]



humph

think 	beyond the thumb. 
	beyond filling the page for the sake of self-relief
taking altruistic monotony spilling out bile and milk
which one to stain your blank page?
in nocturnal revelation scrawl all that is good
hardly anything, in your
 room



poem #2

grey chair holds me
pregnant with yesterday’s rain, 
nicely filtered, brewing with thoughts of liminal birthplace
[seems good to exist on both sides]
how are you, anyway? man walks past with his large dog
and a tiny dog and no one moves or breaths or perfuses themselves at all
surrounded by blue creatures i swell up with desire for air
anticipating heaven with eagerness
wave loudly when i see you 
there is an obvious colour through the glass 
when i see you
words all scare me and suddenly, i am focused and afraid 
of you

the tiny dog barks. 



telephone

telephone filled with eyelashes
tax man wanders the languid streets. searching for 
it is strange. delicate veins underneath thunderous housing blocks
	lifting tea cosy from the blinds
	eyelids pressing up to noiseless static 
	dogs bile coagulates on the floor 
opposite side of the world, someone opens
	a crisp packet
walks out confidently into the street



sewers

last town for the sewers, churning with the waste of working
men’s lunchbox 
trundling home forehead on the sky to mow the
angry wet lawn. desperately trying [above all else] to reach the
lid of the world, wife thinks he is surrendering. 	finally!
in his hour of bitterness, kicks an empty can across the pavement
dislodges	 banana peel in the sewers
curses his impure colon 
	chlorophyll riddled labour

eats alone for the rest of his life



timeless

but please… say
if you have answers 
grey dawn is a shy joke told
by the malnourished jester of 
yesterday's dusk, i must	 leave
for a little while at least 
cold sausage and warm solitude.
both sat well behaved in wet lap
not curious but something else entirely
nowhere could hold my boot print this
heavily
move into the afternoon
god detests pavement cracks 
creating the gutters for tomorrow 














Blossom Hibbert: six coffees with a madman

 
 

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