Clive Culverhouse Poems

life it seems
is not without its irony
for the screaming bards
of Mu Mu Land
...

I saw you fall
I watched you die

what is that
...

my guide kept mostly quiet
until he wanted things his way
then he would turn my head
for no obvious reason
...

let's escape tonight
leave this drum behind
without packing
without our phones
...

he knew I had fallen
we used to spend hours
looking out of the window
seeing mountains, trees, garbage trucks
...

you were never properly afraid of my antlers
in the grass that pierced our feet and the trains
kept on rolling by tracks I wished I'd made but
they would have flowed up trees to their branches
...

it's what I do, I make people up, I give them names
and watch them squirm in some catastrophe or some
dilemma, you see, all along, it's what you did when
you invented me, us, characters in a spaghetti world
...

I was given the earth
not to keep but to sow and to share
such a beautiful mine like a beautiful yours
no wrath from some mouth
...

sometimes
the things I have done
I did without intending
I'm thinking trees
...

standing naked to a gathered few
but painted white
you danced
flowering, as from a mother's womb,
...