North Wind -Snow Plough- Saw-

BLOW Blow blowwoww…..
North wind.
Chase the cobwebs
from the crosshairs

Your route of air
and straight lines
is instinctive,
wise, reflective.

You cannot bend your song.
Your tune whistles
through old keyholes
and south facing alleyways.

South south west
is not a direction
it’s a weigh station
between two poles.

One and a half o’clock
don’t mean jack
when the game
is quadrants.

No curves or edges!
The snow plough dredges
the detritus of white
cursive cotton candy clouds.

Clears the streets
of mist and mire,
vision impeding
furry solid, liquid, gas.

Yellow teeth eat that shit,
fuelled  by stinking diesel.
Pull tar taut across the cortex.
Realigns the grid.

SAW Saw saw, clip
and gnaw
trim the trees to topiary tenets
or privet to pom-pom poodle poems.

Strip it to the bare bones
so the blooms will show
in tidy lines.
No cottage garden chaos.

No riotous rows of native yobs
or words flung from multiflorous gobs.
One head one stalk
is how we walk the garden path.

The only way is our way
or so we say.
These teeth trim the words
at source.

The grin of death.
abrasion in action,
on the forward foot,
put to death in two stroke oscillation.


-Dave Kavanagh


A poem about the importance of brevity (not) lol

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