a slow slide downwards
along a regular curve

it is summer very early morning
and that means nothing

all the yellows look cold
and so all the blues are warm

the solitary child gathers on the horizon
and moves backwards into the middle present

the past is a perfect (blue) parabola
but the future has been mended to prevent collapse

this is a model of always
what holds it up is invisible and to one side

maybe someone else can explain it

the blue car
a Ford Thunderbird

hits the bump and catapults
it is suspended in mid-air

the river remains in front
as the town remains to disappear behind

the child has gathered
all of created nature on his shirt

it was the bicycle that saved the world
doing wheelies on hard concrete to an ignoring public.

reading left to right we are going to end
either with or without an ice cream

he watches as his own car circles by

Homo noos the ghost man is coming from the mountains
announcing our becoming

in the early morning before we are awake
his feet fixed to his skis with parcel tape

the boy holds a fragment of the wall
he has punched a hole to look through

it is the right day and his face is smiling
decorated with cream eggs flour blood and dust

the silence has been digitally remastered
on the bus a Kekulé ring ignites one foot

it takes a committee to fail to second guess this structure
good Christian folks with a tube of glue

nobody chooses to write about this image

I am a system my name is Jiam Jayor
I will return your correspondence unread

a scrap of orange silk sellotaped to the lamp-post
look into the dragon’s mouth

perhaps there is a dawn chorus of singing caterpillars
the sky is blue behind the picnic tables

maybe caterpillars sing all day
and perhaps you hadn’t noticed

there is brightness just before the darkness falls
the walls are white the masks are white

the head has been torn off the man
who tried to hide behind a pillar

I do not wish to end on a rhyme or half-rhyme