Stanley’s favourite dinosaur is Parasaurolophus
but there’s no way we’re letting THAT up on the sofas
I looked ‘em up – they’re 16 feet tall
we’d struggle to get it in through the hall
I think he should look at the Microraptor
it’s easier to keep by quite a factor
the size of a bird, its food bill’s a snap
and it can come and go through the kitchen cat flap
Stanley has always been there
somewhere
right through history
but it’s not a mystery
you see he’s got
this time machine he uses a lot
(and that’s why his paws are smoking hot)
for example
that’s him
howling with the crowd as the gates go in
at the fall of La Bastille
further research will reveal
a lurcher suspiciously like Stanley
behaving particularly badly
four years on
sans-culottes in La Place de la Révolution
adding his bark to the bloody confusion
as they lead out a trembling Louis Seize
to suffer the verdict of la population Francaise
The travelling circus is leaving town
a circle of yellow grass flattened down
no flips and tricks
but slow litter picks
and a clap of pigeons where the high wire ran
Its giant tent is loaded and gone
a blurry sun where the spotlight shone
no flying and tumbling
but a squirrel jumping
from tree to bench and back again
The flags and banners are folded and packed
the trailers hitched, the bleachers stacked
no knockabout clowns
but a dog chasing round
the reversing lights of a council van
Be not afeard; the lurcher is full of noises,
a hundred twangling voices
that sound as if they should mean something
but do not
or if they did the dog hath long forgot
as he wakes with a sneeze and a start
and a mournful howl that would break’st thy heart
and rolls about the rug a lot
and his floppy ears begin to swot
with shaggy, importunate paws
and oft time roars
when those grievous and galumphing claws
wrought more damage than he witteth
whereupon he forthwith doth quitteth
to lie in attitudes of bleak despair
in a forlorn heap at the top of the stairs
and moans, and sighs
and everyone’s patience tries
and makes them curse that moment when
they adopted a lurcher from the rescue pen
as he dreams o’ the walk he had last weekend
and wakes, and cries to dream again
my guardian angel
is late descending
boujee, buff and condescending
ball breaking, mind bending
threatening unfriending
an apocalyptic ending
website down, patent pending
my guardian angel
does abstract flapping
claws down her drawers feather fapping
spiritually geocaching
party crashing
me at the window teeth gnashing
speed scrolling, hashtag angelsacking
my guardian angel
is a fluttery klutz
allergic to liturgy, clergy and nuts
preens and struts
hair out in tufts
continually interrupts
with glossy brochures of the life deluxe
my guardian angel
is a no-good gander
half soul poultry half panhandler
and I just can’t handle her
sorry but NO’s my final answer
so bye bye my feathery chancer
I’ll find some other spiritual advancer
when I was nine or ten
I buried an old birds custard tin
with a collection of interesting items in
two fifty pence pieces
a couple of sweets
a letter both sides of two sheets
I talked about the things I liked
the places I went to on my bike
what I watched on telly at night
addressed to future persons unknown
I buried it under a garden stone
could hardly bear to leave it alone
I imagined an electric, silver foil future
scientists on hover scooters
scanning the tin with big computers
what an incredibly generous gesture
by this mysterious ancestor
bequeathing us his worldly treasure
a few days later I dug up the stash
kept the coins, tossed the rest in the trash
fuck the future I needed the cash
Dad had a terrible lawn mower
that screeched & rumbled & roared
it had two enormous steel rollers
and blades that dragged it forward
it had a long black cable like a tail
that played out across the grass
and I used to see how long I dared stay
in its loops as the monster went past
who knows where that old mower is now
Dad these many years dead
while I stand in the loops as it thunders down
and the swifts scream high overhead
When I was a kid
one thing I did
was try to be like my eldest brother
who lived in a whole other
masculine dimension
judo, motorbikes, not to mention
an academic ability
which gave him the facility
to be ridiculously
successful
on the whole growing up was pretty stressful
I even joined his dojo
did it work? no
I was basically scared of the other kids
their sweaty digs
playing ‘British Bulldog’
getting my head pulled off
I’d shake with fright
every Friday night
I mean – Fred the sensei tried alright
bellowed
I never got past yellow
In retrospect
you couldn’t expect
a different outcome
maybe if there’d been some
other stuff I could’ve done
something fun
like figurative ice skating I think
but your ambition shrinks
when there aren’t any rinks
so that’s that
you’re slammed face first through a judo mat
Now I’m free to be me
and life goes on more easily
but if I had the knack
of reaching back
I’d say hey Jim whassup?
and lead me out of that judo club
to a beautiful spot beside the river
where I’d dance and deliver
a song to make me shiver
impromptu
you don’t have to copy him if you don’t want to
I had to go to the dentist for a check-up
I could only see him from the neck up
but he seemed nice enough
a bit rough
if I’m honest
like he’d just wandered in from the forest
from felling trees
to filling teeth
‘Oh Mr Clayton,’ he said
shaking his head
‘Do you floss?’
‘Yoss’
(speaking’s a struggle
with two hands in your muzzle)
‘Okay
Let’s take an xray
Relax!’
he said, scooting back
Later, when he was studying the plates
I thought I’d break
the tension
with some post-examination
conversation
‘At least we’ve got the NHS
millions don’t have dentists, I guess.’
‘Except Cuba,’ he said
raising his eyebrows and nodding his head
‘Yes! Cuba has a superb dental system
Also, they’re so good it’s insane
when it comes to dealing with hurricanes.
Everyone knows exactly the part they have to play
and immediately snaps into an efficient civic display
medical attention, blood stocks, search and rescue
what have you
everybody out on the streets to help you
it really is incredibly neat’
He jumped to his feet.
‘Hurricanes and teeth
my friend, hurricanes and teeth.’
‘And how’s the x-ray? I asked him
seen anything nasty, hmm?’
‘LM2’s worn, doesn’t need drilling
But Guantanamo Bay definitely needs filling.’
How did it come to this?
me, leaning in a plastic dumpster
fumbling for a mallet or a hammer
to knock in a bamboo marker
the dogs had knocked over
round a patch of wild flowers
singing MacArthur Park?
(to be clear – the dogs just bark
I’m the one singing
the first thing
that comes into my head –
a song from the 70s by Jimmy Webb)
MacArthur Park!
I mean – not even
the cool Donna Summer version
but that godawful, barely lawful perversion
by Richard Harris
Richard Harris!
I’m so embarrassed
singing with the same, geriatric warble
like Richard Harris had gone to the trouble
of building up status with audiences & directors
in the theatre, film and television sectors
but found himself singing like a vivisector
might sing
operating
on a cat
and being suitably horrified by that
mind you
it’s true
the brain is a crazy kinda organ
with weirder projections than a gorgon
signals continually toing and froing
without you knowing
what the hell is going
on, and why you’re getting strange looks from strangers
because you’re singing and snapping your fingers
to Scooby dooby Doo, where are you….?
or that advert for Murphy’s in 1992
p-p-p-pick up a penguin
flickering round your axons
for aeons and aeons
along with a billion other distractions
No doubt if you held a gun to my head
and said sing us something or you’re dead
it wouldn’t be anything I genuinely liked
like Iron & Wine, Die Antwoord, or anything I’d been listening to that night
on Spotify
anything of quality
it’d be some lame-arsed jingle
an advert for Pringles
or Nivea for wrinkles
a tune you desperately snatch
as they frown and flick off the safety catch
as I start singing uncertainly:
Ski – the full of fitness food – for all the family….
and of course – I’m sure they wouldn’t hesitate or waver
they’d shoot me straight off and they’d be doing me a favour
jim clayton 