Two Poems
by Cai Draper
30/4/20
navigating the comma is like navigating the navel
inner
linten
portal
sometimes I tickle myself & come out getting egged in Manchester circa 2009
today I am grateful for the lack of egging
& the fact of no weed left
I smoked it all in a kissing gate feeling butters as I said
I am trying to say exactly what I mean
the windows remain
very dirty
I am scared I will never be able to live with another person again
this morning I have already had three arguments
one with my boss about the spreadsheet
one with my neighbour about British Summer Time
one with myself about the way the first two were dealt with
for each of them I was completely alone
for a good portion of the time
my thoughts resemble giant hairy caterpillars not of me born
M says not every deviation is betrayal
so big up the moments of divine junk
sometimes I stick my hand through my belly button
& come out washing rocket down the basement kitchen in New Cross
sturdily booted Arriva Jesus flailing greased apron & busted pot
dancing with a broom like Turbo in Wildstyle
without recourse to clear fishing lines holding it up
saying that
I did know a man who walked the New Cross Road barefoot
& came back to life after an accident
which cured him of his taste
but not his thirst
3/5/20
I would write in praise of walking
if the joggers didn’t rhyme with themselves in my face
follow the vector to cumulus high
culminating greys of a bilious
staunch & stubborn sky
the inscrutable seated of Norwich
land of chair
closed as a library
sniffing on each sill’s stickiness
is a step in the direction of you
my city
but I ain’t stirring this morning
I am eating an apple & mooching
to stay put a lot makes my bellies
throw a petty fist in the dungeon
about time we got going
said the moonwalking ghost to the flesh in its den
has the concept of structural forwardness
shut up shop
its trap
or what
coz I don’t know the street from the ant track from the flight path
from the pipework from the flume from the landfill
now that B&Q is open
woohoo
does the Mountain of Shit feel relief or dread
do egrets feel breeze to be cleaner these days
or the cormorants calmer in firmament
roaming
a case of inside the horizon
at the back of the pub where the taps are still working
I chat a bunch & outstay my welcome
Cai Draper is a poet from South London. His work appears in various magazines, anthologies & journals, with recent poems in Tenebrae, Lammergeier & Tentacular. He organises free workshops at the Book Hive and an online reading series with Arts at the Assembly House. He can be found online as @DraperCai.
