When the Dogs Bite

Thursday, 5 February 2026

5th February 2026

politicians

incensed by gender fluidity

protecting paedophiles

On the Onset of Dementia

I've borrowed one of those folding tables

-- the sort people use to paste wallpaper

before forgetting which side faces upward--

and set out each of my thoughts and memories

in jars and bottles, collected over the last year.

Some are Kilner jars, big and heavy;

sealed lids to contain my darkest opinions;

the ones kept safe lest the authorities arrest me

for my opinions that gender is irrelevant

as long as everything is consensual;

Or that religion is just a framework

Where people can hang their prejudices on display.

Nobody wants these, even when I price them

at less than the empty jars

while other, in jam pots and mustard jars

are filled with easy listening,

like "Tuesdays should be coloured blue"

and "why aren't swallows yellow?"

And over the day the table is gradually emptied

Not by passers-by taking an interest and making a purchase,

but by some local lads who tip over the table

and smash the bottles and jars

Until my mind is gradually emptied

And all that is left

is my need to ask for pudding for breakfast.

Wednesday, 4 February 2026

4th February 2026

morning in Eymet

gathering the sweetest grass

happy old boy

On the Discarding of Heads

I cannot remember the name attached

to the head of the blond young man in my hands

At some point he must have been important

my sense of Reason informs me; rather coldly,

I thought, though Memory just shrugs and says "Whatever."

and there is no sense of urgency about this man;

perhaps a college friend or client of the wilder days

when I was younger and in need of ready cash

for paint or canvas or just for electric meter meals.

I send him on to the realm of the dead and wonder

if his white-toothed smile was ever really real

or just a social construct. Today there was a tuppence

face up on the dirt floor of the old cattle shed;

loose change that fell from denim pockets

when trousers were at ankle height;

a discarded condom hung like a trophy from a rusty nail.

Tuesday, 3 February 2026

3rd February 2026

avoiding the pastries

in the boulangerie

free petit pains

tell me all about thy greatest canine friend

and how they look at thee with such devotion.

Explain to me how such connections never end

and how they greet thee with commotion.

Dost thy beloved pooch wag their glorious tail

until their bum falls off allotted balance.

Do they resent the presence of incoming mail

and when told to stay do they still silently advance?

Art thou shown their favourite stick or toy

when thou has been gone just a little while

and are they not the goodest girl or boy

whose presence is enough to make thee smile?

They occupy a portion of thy life on earth

and yet thou art their whole, the centre of their world.

Monday, 2 February 2026

2nd February 2026

airport run

across the Yorkshire moors

morning fog

Thou canst barely keep thine eyes from closing

And yet thou chooseth not to sleep this day

For on the steel rails thou were’t dozing:

Almost lost thy work for lack of save.

Then Anxiousness did show its ugly face

In light of all the words that might have gone

Down to the hell reserved for author’s waste

Whence to dwell eternally, undone.

And now the numpty that thou seems to be

Hath left thy laptop charger on thy desk

At home and let the fucker die before thee

See those disassembled lines redressed.

Now all of France be scoured for laptop docking

While angels whirl above are gently mocking.

Sunday, 1 February 2026

1st February 2026

stepping into light

a midpoint in the darkness

Imbolc

Here, Tomorrow.

Thou cans't never say that I was false of heart,

for I loved fully and without restraint

for if I ever seemed too far apart

'twas naught but my emotive state.

Betwixt autism and untrusting calms

that any could love me or my devotion match

so many loves have sought another's arms

and quickly seen my love to be detached.

And if in later times I dids't forget thy name

'tis not a slight on thee: I remember not

for my memories and yours are not the same

and I have no thought for those who severed knot.

My life is in the present whereupon I anchor fast

and only inside nightmares do I dare relive the past.

Saturday, 31 January 2026

31st January 2026

tiny paintings

I never intend to sell

shrouded in plastic

Alvechurch, 1970

I was always one of those loners

who preferred to read than go out to play

books from the library, some from donors

to a jumble sale or two on Saturday.

One at eleven; another at two

at the Barnett Green scouts or our own village hall

sixpence to enter, but wait in the queue

and stay for an hour, until Mother's call.

My reading was never parentally censored

on the basis that knowledge was better than none

Seven years old and already in MENSA

I raced through the school years much smarter than some.

My favourites were always just stacked by my bed

Apocalypse sci-fi and horror-filled dread.

Friday, 30 January 2026

30th January 2026

brief flurry

taken to the ground

ankle lock applied

Wolverhampton, 1988

Dids't thou ever have a boss that thou admired

asks the card drawn from the deck of memory

and thinking of them all makes me feel tired

for so few of the jobs appealed to me.

My first job was as jobbing gardener, I

would dig and weed and prune for little pay

my next as self-employed myself I'd ply

to those men, often married, for the day.

I worked behind the bar for little wage

and supplemented income playing pool

with falsifying records of my age

in those days it was but a minor rule.

Of all, there was but one who took my heart,

and he a lecturer in visual Art.