Minimalist poet, minimalist lifestyle

Just returned from visiting my parents. the visit went well, but the vibration I had to endure whilst spending over ninety minutes on the bus has aggravated my piles.

I should get some relief from a hot bath tonight, but I really need is for them to bleed and then I'll get at least two months without them bothering me.

Thanks to Phil for the comments about my poems; I think you should post some of yours on your blog...I haven't read that many of them myself.

SALVATION

Golf clubs full
Of gleeing girls
And sparring spouses.

Gentler than men
Hormones severally
Reclining.

Keepsakes of emotion
Writing wrongs for these
Chapters in the round.

I've learned nothing:
I blow my nose
On a sleeve with
Colour painted on.

Today I'll visit my parents for a few hours; they live in Thurnscoe, a former pit village eight miles away and the bus service to there (especially on a Sunday) isn't very good.

Fortunately they're both still quite healthy, regularly cycling quite long distances and walking in the beautiful countryside nearby.

LA FEMME

A symmetry of halfmoons:
I taste the first month
Not bitter, not sweet
No pips on the hour.

A tropical crop,
No discernible seasons:
You could devise party
Games using only citrus fruit.

FIRST LOVE

Cut glass flowers
And urinate in
The vase.

Dirty language
Washed up on
A distant shore.

Crap on the
Union Jack;
In the backroom
Boys it's a
Closed shop.