Waking tortoises in the veins refuse instructions
To stop drinking angry and fixated stars in our choir
Annotate places snow drinks awry transformation
Left the beginnings of rheumatism in fingers
Rest on eyelids separate themselves
From a too heavy because the label





Rolling silver paper into a ball until sensing a likeness




Sweat drop rehydrates teacher who promises to break
The quality of refusal that comes from connection is sung



The dictionary a day old and working thirst
Light changed body ice broke into different
Shaped pieces the rest of the spectre got invoked
Trying to put bully together again as if

Nothing more important for us to be doing


In the parachute I see you on the road below me
The deer hauling the cart of paint brushes
Over the edge of the ravine saying I’ve had it
With Painting there is rent to pay



In these notebooks a list of my needs written
Out again on every page half way through
I broke from habitual patterning and wrote
SURREALISM a bald pedagogy


Fighting the same cloud on a Sunday both made nauseous
By the sight of our own footprints cows rush past me
Back into formlessness not the first time breath
In sand and out molasses eyes mentor
Pieces of stone an arrangement of charred
Objects mime reproduction atrocities
Come into the stair well full of advice
Learnt inside fortune cookies



Then the praise poem admits it dislikes its object




  Without spontaneity the sky

The horses place their bets each morning
Had great stories even when they did not say a word
Even when they were not around I liked how their hearts
Smouldering pockets of hot ash the tiny bite
The enthusiasm of a fox glass blowing itself
A pair of antlers



Fingers work views into knots#
On a stone another city exact cubist replica of the first
I had made without intention without knowing although
Now I know I overemphasise my parochialness
Its routines and now as if a wall has fallen fields
Falsified boundary stones fall out of the sky



Human hair grows in ditches preferred medium of news

Gentle a beheaded princes revelation



      I invent new creatures

New songs for us to sing falsely so to calm ourselves
When fear of night begins to grow most accurate
The sun shone brightest I built whole classrooms
Inside sums I saw the beautiful complexity settled
For the beginnings of frost bite those friends
Who fed me rich food fell from space a collection
Of fish hearts by rote fighting grey impulse



As it follows
Not itself but
A reciprocity
Into the wet



Buoyed by the attentions of fictioneers


The light in the window a poor imitation


Of sunlight but for a while


Founders of the city request their own teeth


Be ground up for baby milk




I am fortunate not to be knocked unconscious this
Clumsy birth of curiosity it’s fine not
To be grateful if you came in here now
I’d pretend to be a lake




If I change the speed is a change of season inevitable



Back to surface and air is notebooks



Should I barefoot wearing what kind of shoes meet



Night in the part of the classroom where animals


Made their own cafes a deafening sawing of night



A special wood touched the places on our backs



Glowing ampersands ulcer my mouth



Use salt water to get out

david berridge lives in London. Poems and sequences can be found in Shearsman, Liminal Pleasures, Poetry Salzburg Review and online in Fascicle, Great Works, Free Verse and Shadow Train. He writes reviews for Intercapillary Space. His chapbook Nationality Test, will be published in part with  the 2007 dusi/e-chap kollectiv, and is forthcoming as a e-chap at dusie.org.

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