cai draper

[This poem was first published in No Contact Mag]

navigating the comma 

navigating the navel

inner 

linten

portal 

sometimes I tickle myself & come out getting egged in Manchester 

circa two thousand and nine

today I am grateful for the lack of egging

& the fact of no weed left

I smoked it all in a kissing gate feeling gross as I said 

I am trying to say exactly what I mean

the windows remain 

very dirty

I am scared I will never be able to live with another person again

this morning I have already had three arguments

one with my boss about the spreadsheet

one with my neighbour about British Summer Time

one with myself about the way the first two were dealt with

for each of them I was completely alone

for a good portion of the time

my thoughts resemble giant hairy caterpillars not of me born

M says not every deviation is betrayal

so big up the moments of divine junk

sometimes I stick my hand through my belly button

& come out washing rocket down the basement kitchen in New Cross

sturdily booted Arriva Jesus flailing greased apron & busted pot

dancing with a broom like Turbo in Wildstyle

without recourse to clear fishing lines holding it up

saying that

I did know a man who walked the New Cross Road barefoot

& came back to life after an accident

which cured him of his taste

but not his thirst 

is a poet from South London living in Norwich. His work appears in various places, including Lighthouse, PERVERSE, and the Bad Betty Alter-Egos Anthology, with poems forthcoming in Anthropocene and Babel Tower Notice Board. He organises free workshops at the Book Hive and an online reading series with Assembly House.