Raised nose in the air
Biscuits, weed, the dirty canal
Missing Harlesden Town
Lairiness at The Clock
And you’re Bakerloo bound
Hours in Harlesden Town
Weaving through hangars
Food shop, prayer shop, mechanics
Moon-kissed Harlesden Town
Street-level laughter
Money in a high-rise looks down
Everywhere and Harlesden Town
Fireworks at midnight
Those hasty, zipping, motor sounds
Sleepless Harlesden Town
- c. h., 25th August 2021
Sunkissed
Feeling like a cute king
On my polo island
In a gently, rustling morning
With gold in the green, of green in the teal
Counting the mammal planets,
Bobbing in orbit
Through my peripheral vision
Time, I’m perched on
each pension plan consideration and oedipal reflection
all booze-cruise polaroids, and Machu Picchu reviews
Across the water, further sovereign stations
Each receive their share of diary entries
as per our intercontinental agreement -
That all things must pass!
For we are not feathered therapists, Jack
We are the lightness of being
- c.h., 30th October 2023
How can you trust a man who cannot ask for what he wants?
Is that Warhol, reclining on the couch, saying “Please, just let me watch”?
Like the juror hiding long in his coffee until his vote is moot
There’s no heart for Cupid’s arrow, or an enemy’s face to shoot
A camouflage is a carapace is a suit in rush hour traffic
In the minds of glorious party guests, he both was and wasn’t at it
Is there a truth to be seen in the painting of the painting of the painting?
How can you trust a man who is at his destination, waiting?
- c. h., 12th February 2023
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