Groovemind, grovemind

synaptic branches
 neuron tipped limbs
 sacred grove recovery

 oakbrain opens doors in my head
 ashbrain spears my ideas
 elmbrain plays the fey

 electric gust moves limbs
 inside my head

 barkskin neural net
 circumnavigates damage
 fruited hemispheres
 replenish, restore, reimagine

 senses water roots
 grove in my head
 grooves in my head

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Total Liberation


she enters dark
 catacombs her wings
 scrape off

 she brings new birth

 wingless orphan lads are born first
 search for their unborn sisters
 fuck one

 dig an escape tunnel
 to light
 and die

 orphan lasses born pregnant
 exit through escape tunnels
 new birth clings to them
 as they unfold wings to fly


I’m allowed to dress in her clothes,
 richer, softer, more delicate

 I’m out with the other lasses
 in the streets hitting ourselves
 with wild fig branches

 lads eye us up as we breathe
 heavy and show more flesh

 they might have us later
 or we might have them

 I’m supping and eating with her
 tomorrow I shall wear
 poorer, harder, rougher clothes

 and do chores



Tha wants to hear
‘ow tha nannan saved tarn
al tell thee.

a were nowt but
a serving oik
to big bosses
on r tarn.

serving ’em sup a were
an they were in
a reet tacking

seein as son lads
from another tarn
as said ‘Thas best
do as we ask else
we’ll beat thee
black and blue.
Know what am saying?’

“We want tha lasses,
wives and girlfriends
fort neet or maybe

In a reet to do.
Well as bein a serving oik
a ‘ad an idea.
So a pipes up
“al sort it for thee.”

an they continued
wi their yammer.
” a said, al sort it.
For thee.”

an their still yammer,
yammer. a slams full
pint pot dahn so’s it
splashes all o’er

“Lunk’eads! A said
al sort for thee!”

Well, they eyes me
up and dahn like a were
summat art a tarn.

A were a bit on a looker
then, tits pointy, reet curve
on ma hips and dash
a blonde hair.

Then been so engrossed
they’d not noticed us.
“Well!”, chief boss says.

A outlines plan
to ’em while they’re
eyeing up me goods,
int plan a volunteered
a stack o’ me female
mates to join us.

An it were on.


Bosses telled their wives
 an girlfriends o’ plan,
 an telled ’em to keep stum.

 Some o’them lasses
 as doubted us lot
 lower dahn pecking order
 could do job reet. Snobby
 bitches. They says
 “We’ll tek ’em in an
 teach ’em how to play part.”

 A told our stack o’ lasses
 an they were game. So
 all on us volunteers
 turns up at posh lasses
 doors and got a reet

 “Tha dunt want too much,
 else tha’ll stink like a whore.”
 she dabs rose petal scent on us,
 rouge’s me cheeks,
 chooses second best
 linen  for us “Dunt want you
 showing us up.”

 an a were saving her.
 Other lasses had been tret
 same, but now all on us
 were off to meet
 wi enemy artside tarn.

 a gev lasses advice.
 “Play hard
 to get, first. Thas posh,
 remember. Up to them
 to woo thee.”


When us turns up
they’ve laid on a reet spread
for us, hot meat and fresh fish platters,
rice, pasta and sweet wine.

bearded enemy is all in a line up
to the tables. “Are you their
wives and girlfriends?”, one
o’ them asks.

A walk along line o’ men.
Stop. Pull a lads goatee
beard towards
ma tits an say ” No, we’re
shit under thee booit. Av
got some goats milk
‘ere that wants suppin’.”
an ma tits in his marth.

One o’ other lasses,
reveals a thigh an says,
“ma fig wants chewin’ on.”

Yet another pouts her lips,
“a need a tongue to tek,
ma nectar” an snogs
one o’ the enemy.

soon all are coupled up,
an suppin’ place dry
an sossled
an ma lasses are play
fightin’ wi enemies weapons
an hidin’ them away

lad on ma breast as his hands
all o’er, a gently prise him off,
“Time, yet, lover, time.”
an sneak artside
an climb a wild fig tree,
an raise a torch
art on folds a ma dress
leet it so’s bosses can see.

an bosses come dahn
on enemy fistin’, cuttin’
av blood splattered o’er
her second best dress,
ma rouge is redder.

beat ’em soundly we did,
atter wi were gin r freedom
fort savin’ tarn.

an that’s why we’re ‘ere
under wild fig tree,
suppin’ goats milk
an lasses play fightin
o’er yonder.

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The Artist, Mariner and Engineer


 At eleven years old
 my Dad’s teenage sketchbooks
 Cows sat down in pencil.
 His Dad’s backyard full of tools
 a preliminary pencil sketch.
 Wanked off at
 his female nudes, even when
 drapery hid modesty.
 Extremely detailed Clwydian hills,
 mountains, landscapes,
 rotting stump colours
 ablaze yellows, ochres, greens.
 I wanted to draw, sketch,

 I asked
 for my Dads’ books.
 He did not have many.
 He gave me all.

 Alfred N. Whiteheads
 “Problems of Philosophy”
 “An Introduction To Immanuel Kant”
 “The Poems of Rudyard Kipling”

 He played a 33″ record Dylan Thomas
 ‘Under Milk Wood’ from my earliest memory
 so every portion of my life
 a quote from it pops into my head.

 “Listen, listen. Time passes…”


 White, steaming big neck
 swings like sail in full.
 Horns razor sharp Madras cow
 clanks down metal aisle
 three funnelled merchant ship.

 Dad, up from hot boilers
 his mate behind the beast
 they hit it with sticks herd it
 back to wooden corral
 above hold.

 Heat, more flies than sweat.
 Dad knew white monster’s
 coal blistered face,
 nostrils hissing air
 steam scream water
 through pipes, pistons.

 Knew every caress of its flank
 every flinch, flick, strain
 yawn of engine below
 the only way to get there.

 Indian cows are sacred,
 so are ships boilers.



 I kept at him

‘Have a drink of water, Dad.’

Retired he climbs Lake District
 up through
 earth’s forest lungs


 Specialists ask “Have you worked with Asbestos?”

‘Only cleaning boilers when I was young.’

dust thickens
 diffuse thickening
 dries lungs
 branches and twigs


 “Listen, listen. Time passes…”

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Torc of Fire, Torc of Linden

Received English version

 Bright Battle is asleep,
 in a torc of fire,
 in a torc of linden shields
 at top of a peak called Hindfell.

 After hearing from Nuthatch
 about Bright Battle
 Siggy wants to see
 for himself, journeys to Hindfell.

 With his horse
 he splinters through the linden shields
 and leaps the lapping flames
 to get to the sleeping maiden

 With sharp blade he slices
 through thetight bound straps
 of her corselet, so it falls
 on the floor, and he kisses her.

 She awakes and tells him
 ” I have been trapped here
 by One Eye when I picked
 the wrong dead king to fetch
 back to the great mead hall.

 One Eye stabbed me with a sleeping
 thorn and put me on top
 of this peak asleep
 with flame and wood around.

 And gave us to believe
 only a mortal kiss
 from such as yourself
 who has braved the wood
 and the fire would set us free.

 You have freed us
 and I am beholden to you.”
 They fall hard
 for each other.

 No need of horse
 he eases through
 her fleshy torc of fire
 her unbroken torc of linden.

 Dialect version

 Bright Battle is fast on,
 in a torc o’ fire,
 in a torc o’ linden shields
 at  peak called Hindfell.

 Atta hearing from Nuthatch
 abaht Bright Battle
 Siggy wants to see
 for himsen, goes to Hindfell.

 Wi his horse
 splinters through linden,
 leaps lappin flames
 to get to fast on virgin lass.

 Wi sharp blade slices
 through tight bound straps
 o’ her corselet, so it falls
 on flooar, an snogs her.

 She weks an tells him
 as “av been trapped here
 by One Eye when I picked
 wrong dead king to fetch
 back to grate mead hall.

 an stabs us wi sleeping
 thorn an sets us atop
 this peak fast on
 wi flame and wood arahnd.

 An giz us to believe
 as only a mortal kiss
 from such as thee sen
 as has braved wood
 an fire as set us free.

 Thas freed us
 an a owe thee.”
 They fall hard
 on each other.

 No need of horse
 he eases through
 her fleshy torc o’ fire
 her unbrok torc o’ linden.

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Before the morning

let me light your dark
 in flicks with pale blue.

 Let me make you cold,
 no pulse, confused,
 forgetful, tingling
 Let my concussive
 shock wave lose your ears,
 listening, hearing,

 give you hypertension,
 fixed and dilated
 pupils. Inhale burn.

 Let me flower over
 your skin, feather your
 flesh with red tattoo
 spindly tree ferning,
 fuse your sand into
 glassy tubes, twig limbs.

 Let me shower live
 electrons on your skin
 singe hair and clothing
 shred or blow apart
 your sensible clothes,

 explode your shoes from
 inside; magnetize
 your watch, cuprify
 brass grommets, zippers,

 while you sacrifice
 two dark oxen and
 round honey cakes to
 placate my moods.

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How I became a river

said to charioteer o sun ” Ma pipes can beat thy harp anyday.” An he agreed an said that winner would av the other. A thort am in here, either way.

 So r blew till ma cheeks puffed art like Minerva wat slung
 pipe cos it did that an med her look ugly.

 a lost, an charioteer has me nar, “Ah-h-h! why r tha now ripping me apart? A pipes not value of ma life!”

Ma living skin is ripped off from ma limbs, ma whole bodies a flaming wound, wi nerves and veins and innards open to air.

 An all you grieving folk a shed tears
 on fruitful Earth, drop dahn to her deepest veins, as drip moistening dews,—and, gathering as a spout, turned uppards from her secret-labyrinth caves,

 to spurt, sparkling, in sun-snogged air,  clearest river in land through which fast flows between steep banks dahn to sea: and is named atter us  “The Marsyas”

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Clever One’s flamin’ torch

barks forard flames, raves wi its fire,
 an doubles burning heat o’ sun.

 Torches earth an shoots its rays, 
 earth looks forard to holocaust,

 tastes its endin’, watta lapped up,
 green drained from leaves an grass.

 scorching heat too great to wi’stand,
 an poorly sick an dyin’ on its own making,

 frettin’ in its cremation oven: heat scattered ‘mong star shapes,

 and all brought to stop by Clever’ torch single blazin’ ember
 ‘mong other embers
 lobbed inta neet sky
 from massive fire at start on it all.

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siggy dees, long live siggy

Siggy falls fo’ Sword Spirit, beautiful
 daughter o’ King Eylimi. Siggy
 wooes Sword Spirit agin younger kings.

 Siggy wins an gets hitched to Sword Spirit 
 One o’ younger suitors Lyngi says “Tha not ‘aving ‘er. Al av thee bollocks on a spit, first. Thas won battle but not war. I’ll av thee.”

 Reight scrap an battle ensues,
 fists in heads, lamping one another.
 Siggy can’t be defeated ‘cos o’ his sword
 as is one only he could pull out
 on oak int mead hall.

 One Eye arrives wi his invincible spear, Swayer. When Siggy sees
 One Eye, he attacks him, when he strikes Swayer, Wrath shatters into two.

 At night, Sword Spirit, preggers wi Siggy’s bairn, finds her hubbie still compos on battlefield. Siggy says ” Gather brok bits o’ ma sword, so r son can forge a new un. He’ll avenge me an thy father.”

 Lyngi, still wants to marry Sword Spirit,
 fails to find her or her treasure.
 She’s flitted to Alf, Sea Rover an marries him

 Sword Spirit bears a son, she calls Siggy.
 Alf, brings up Siggy’s son as his oan

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Siggy dees, long live Siggy

Atta Counsel’s tale, o’ how
 Hugger killed his dad, then turned inta a serpent, Siggy agrees
 to help his foster-father get Ottergold

 Twice, Counsel meks Siggy a sword,
 both brek on anvil. Finally Sword Spirit giz
 her son brok bit o’ dead Siggy’s sword.
 Counsel forges wi brok bit, Siggy calls sword Wrath. Wi Wrath, Siggy cleaves anvil in two.

 Siggy and Counsel go “Glittering Heath”.
 Siggy digs a pit to hide in wait for Hugger. When Hugger sups from stream,
 Siggy kills serpent wi sharp Wrath.

 Counsel wants treasure for himself,
 tells Siggy that he will not seek revenge
 for killing his brother if Siggy will cut out Hugger’s heart and roast it for him.

 Serpent’s heart will gi any man who eats
 it power over other men. Siggy agrees.

 Siggy roasts the heart over fire,
 tests  heart to see if cooked,
 burns his fingers from juice (heart-blood).

 Siggy puts his fingers immediate
 in his mouth to cool ’em dahn
 an sudden like knows what
 bird language means.

 Birds tell Siggy ” Counsel will
 betray thee
 once you eat the heart,
 take all treasure fo himsen.”

 Bird says ” Bright Battle,
 a virgin shieldlass
 sleeps within a torc
 of Fire at Hindfell”

 Siggy strikes off Counsel’s head.
 Siggy eats Hugger’s heart himsen.
 finds magic finger torc
 sword called Brute, 
 Helm o’ Awe,
 an Golden Byrnie.

 Siggy,leaves Glittering Heath
 trogs north to Hindfell
 to chat up Bright Battle.

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ottermeat to wormrich

One Eye an two mates, Mud King
 an Clever Sod stroll Dearne River
 an Clever says “Am reight peckish”

 “as tha ever ad Otta? Reight nice.
 an he waits by bank, rags one
 stones its head an skins it.

 meks a fire side river, cooks meat.
 Soon arrive at fellas house,
 who says “That were ma son tha et.”

 Small King says “That’s ma changeling
 son’s pelt on thee shoulder”
 an chains One Eye, Mud King and Clever

 “If one o’ thee can pay ransom,
 I’ll let thee all go.” King says.
 “I’ll sort it, lads.” agrees Clever.

 Clever knows a rich lad called Careful
 works winding wet o’ River Dearne.
 Sat by weir side he waits and waits.

 Clever crouches wi net by weir.
 Sudden gold fleck flitsup
 “Let me go.” cries leaper caught.

 “an Careful what will tha gi us
 for freein’ thee?” asks Clever.
 “All ma gold.” cries Careful.

 “an finger torc rahnd thee tailfin, too.”
 “Aye, that an all.” and Careful
 shows Clever where his gold is hid.

 Fetchin’ rich ransom back in otters pelt
 to Small King, Careful slips Clevers net,
 curses all who use his finger torc.

 Seeing rich otter pelt gold packed
 Small King releases One Eye an
 Mud King, forgets his grief

 Brothers Hugger an Counsel say
 “Dad can we av share o’ this glitterin’
 pelt?”. “No.” says small king.

 Hugger steals finger torc .
 “Giz a hug, Dad.” an as his Dad does
 Hugger slips knife between his ribs.

 Counsel says ” Otter pelts rs nar bruv.”
 Hugger’s eyes now a snakes.
 “Giz a hug, Counsel.” Counsel flits

 Hugger’s hunger hoards huge
 gold, silver on Glittering Heath
 burns all who would have it

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