smoking ~ rene

crawling around like we did
up to this building
and cigarette
i’m smoking now

a snake head
a glowing flick
in my fingers
lights it
a finger in your hand and head
a single bomb
a touch
just a tourist looking for directions
near Bond Street
from nowhere
i turn away
and someone
you might be able to share all this with
is there

a cat
a king
a savage ease out
a savage ease in

a city of hunger by numbers
laid back
“all the animals must come home”
i remember thinking
none of us were really animals or anything yet though, we
were still human

silent and jogged by each stop
ten years
or none
a joy at knowing
i’ll see you later on
a great consistency
an impulse gives
and changes our eyes
back into our bodies
what we’ve always been
eating hate
dribbling down
like a rock
on a hill

i woke up at: Charing Cross
old 8
and dreading work
dreaming my hang-over
and laughing about familiar things
and the beauty
and lack of difference between them
and here
a secretary
or steam
a ‘tovarisch’
a Russian word
for ‘friend’
i’ve met
and something eager
like a tourist

a pass-port slipping down between the gap
a face
the one sleeping beside you
the image, force, and worlds hand
inhales it all
and lets it all go
breathing out steam breath in the street
holding it all back for later
for a later hit
transforming it all back
into to a day.


is Raoul Moat in a boat. His first words were ‘Newky Brown’. As well as being our most prolific writer, René also creates graphic art, paintings and screenplays.

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