the word golem

Down and down rolls the sun
on a day most emphatically done
the word golem

From a clay of dreams that won’t come
slow & crude as a bare thumb
heart as hollow as a toy drum
the word golem

I cannot speak and I cannot run
from the lumpish creature I summon
my work lies scattered & undone
the word golem

The only way the spell can be broken
is to tear the holy name from him
truth to death become
the word golem

And though my writing hand grows numb
from all the wretched work I’ve done
I shall not call his name again
the word golem

Welcome to the gravel pit

I spoke to my brother on the phone for a bit
he’d just been down the gravel pit
to check out some fancy diving apparatus
its general operational status
and whether the neck was watertight
(thankfully that turned out alright)
he said four hundred feet down on the gravel bed
they’d sunk various things to keep you interested
like an old, redundant airforce jet
with a crayfish pilot waving from the cockpit

he asked me how the writing was going
and whether there was any money in poems
and why don’t I write about dogs instead
with an influencer’s blog on the internet
and how many books in total I’ve sold
and suddenly I felt as pressured and cold
as if it was me down there on the gravel bed
with bubbles & fish swirling round my head
and emerging through the gritty gloom
a sunken, redundant writer’s room
with a lamp, a chromebook, a desk with a drawer,
a crayfish writer with a pen in its claw

his last tweet

I have no doubt his familiar was a jackdaw
he was so acquisitive, divergent,
distractable, odd.
increasingly he was living only
where he could see everything
and everything could see him
over time he built a chaotic but glittering nest
borrowing from other nests
stealing, more than once,
it has to be said
only to make his nest more beautiful
less obviously refractive
he died – suddenly, tragically off-cam –
from a strange but Snopes-verified condition:
the funeral cortege, I’m proud to reveal,
attracted almost a hundred followers