#poetry Uncategorized


Folded into a bar

watching an astronaut on the TV,

I think about space.

Space in air locks

With pretty rooms for pilots enduring G-force on giant leaps.

Space to sing ‘over’ in orbits of epistrophe.

Space for space walks stepping from the human realm on a human lead

In the most expensive extra-curricular activity ever conceived.

Space for philanthrophic explorers on atmospheric vacations

Who do not live up to the loving of ‘philo’.

Singing ‘over’ where no one can hear you,

When nothing has ended.

Some say “Public don’t care for space no more”

But I could sure do with some under this table.

I read the menu,

To humble the possibility of “printed, typed and written words”

I think about leaving the Earth

To nourish my appetite for the “free, unoccupied dimensions of height and depth” in all of its emptiness.

But right now my bladder is full of piss.

I think about the atoms of our bodies.

Won’t you make space in our clotted veins and clear them of sickness?

Won’t you suffuse our bankrupt arteries like elevators spurning aged and crumbling flights?

Why, despite the insendious curling of metal

When a rocket ship explodes

Everybody still wants to fly.

I ponder so long that the moment the launch actually happens

I’m watching a cockroach below a bar stool roll its simple eyes.

I hear someone say

“Truly man just ain’t happy unless a man dies”

I finally look up and see the television screen.


Sign o the time by Prince

Recessional by Rudyard Kipling

The Canonization by John Dunne

Hymn by Taylor Johnson

Goodbye to All that by Joan Didion

By Seb Lloyd

Writer, South London

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