Munging

Here comes the terminate: silent thief
shuffle-shoe slither, unstoppable enveloper.
On EVA, it appears the laser-sharp advance
of a great meridian, beach-ball for Ursa Major.
At ground zero, it's maw opens before us,
fingers thickly lifting the duvet's edge, figurines
dipped into it's baggy repose. A chuggy-pig rumba

treads a finer line, my carapace
to the light, blinking to glimpse faint outlines
a bat-whispered keening for blurred data.

Sing luminous seeps of PERL, my shield at this hour !
The watch-keepers pre-processor
is handed on as we dance on the thread
of a Turing machine trying to avoid
patterns sliding into place.
Caught here, swapped-out.

A purple elephant hawkmoth hovers at dusk
slipping slowly towards upraised trumpets,
laying down on viscous damask, each heady breath shimmering
yellow wings, redolent waves brushing antennae.

The bright-eyed Erinaceus europaeus rumbling
under the shrubs by the fence,
seeking the rough-pawed embrace of a night-time's hunt,
the violent shake and snuffling of couplings. I wait crouched
by the shed, peering unknowing but eager into shadows.

Thymus vulgaris forward under the honeysuckle's ombre
blows drunken mauve ; the weight gaits
harder on green-eyed fingers, palms-up to give.
Desire is a smooth green spike, ever-green held
by a warped stem ; shadow weight over
Salvia argentea, Thymus citriodorus, Petroselinum crispum .

Rowan grids tilt, intersect, a coordinate of no precise dream,
some half-awake frame, arms rising,  
lace leaves curling a chirping robin
among the clumps of diffraction-thin birch trees.

Hawthorn leaves synch sullen data-structures
busy with large shiny ants feeding at the capillary
( uneasily I feel my throat: a small scar )
of a seemingly loose-typed language:
but not quite: in their free samplings
of chlorophyll, at a head hatching
deep in an alien mothership, they revert
to 8-bit ints.

Gentle notes of a bush cricket.

Slow beats shiver moth-clung plate-glass
their dryness trembling with cellular clenching.
My sweets, dogwood, we'll yaller hollows
in the dusk, carry bats forward on a dark wave,
moths tumbling by their death's head, our winter's
shadow-fax the bottom orchard. The nightingales '
last visit, our first knowledge, crystallises slowly.

In the dog-shed, a butterfly the colour of night

stands, antennae streamed, wings folded upright.

Matching crows patch sulphur over a dry brook,
diffs sit unhappily beside each other on a wire fence.
My hard claws grip cold metal,
trying to decide which way the temperature would shift,
luminosity gradients glow or dim. As now, a cars ' horn,
I cannot tell where I sit. You know what it's like
to lay a five sided carpet: evidence pointed
both directions. On which node did I lie ?
Red or white ? When would the garbage collector strike ?
When my truth values morphed untrue ?
I could see the leaves shiver silver.

Stars lapse their tractor wheel, sleeps' trails
slither my eyelid. Dawn's toxic waste flares the eastern sky.
The sudden whipped part of bull-rush
blundered by a surprised heron,
a cascade of frogs in it's wake.

A swing of the axe
cracks the rotten hawthorn trunk. Ripping ivy
from the garage-roof angers bees, who struggle
away in a wet autumn shroud. The shredders blade
chews flesh, grate'n'grind, a fresh swig of gin.
Clearances go on everywhere,
even by the arching indents of the mock orange
and buddleia where the walk-through continue.

Digging deep into the ground ivy
the hard earth yields a hole. The piled earth
smells clean, the cut of the mattock,
my granpa's arm with mine, binding
to the rowan's sigh.

Each morning, a cat's gift to the two-legs:
a vole, dead from a heart-attack.