It’s not a tube of Pringles,
it’s a brain protection system.
It’s not a 20th viewing of Moneyball,
it’s a brain protection system.
It’s not a staring at a wall,
it’s a brain protection system.
It’s not a flailing of limbs,
it’s a brain protection system.
It’s not a waste of money,
it’s a brain protection system.
It’s not a waste of time,
it’s a brain protection system.
It’s not a waste of talking,
it’s a brain protection system.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
There you go
floating through brick walls,
swallowing the dirt,
walking with a thousand limps,
agreeing with the leaves,
selling honey to the bees,
teaching the sky it is alive.
There’s a tortoise in the garage
thinking about its day in the garden.
Its shell is softer than it realises,
its head forgets
it will one day be a mountain.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
There’s a business card
sellotaped to a black notice board
graffitied with the word WHAT
below two panes of glass
that have been tampered with
by fingers desperate to be see through
and a forehead trapped in skin
stretched by the thoughts
of goalkeeper lying helpless
and a puddle of process Orange Reef.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
It will happen again:
the falling,
the surprise inside of a doughnut,
the water on the face,
the broken mind your head sign,
the phone call in the morning.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
I don’t ask them
what’s the weather like up there
because I can see it from down here.
I say Thank you, sorry to bother you
when they get me the last box of cereal
from the back of the top shelf.
When mountains sit in front of me
in the cinema I move seats
without tapping them on the head.
It doesn’t take much
to not ruin a lump’s day.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Think of something stunning from the natural world: The sky, the ocean, mountains, grass, a giraffe, etc.
Game 2: Write a poem convincing everyone it was created just for you.
When the days
are as blue
as an empty tub
of salt and vinegar Pringles
I think about Simone Biles
back flipping
around your brain
on a Tuesday
when I ask
What are you thinking?
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Feathers shimmied
like a melting rainbow
on a day
that couldn’t decide
if it wanted
to be remembered.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Game 1: Grab a newspaper or magazine, or head to a news site online.
Game 2: Find a headline that pulls you in for whatever reason. Don’t read the article.
Game 3: Write a poem that fits the headline.
Look! There’s grey and
a tiny bit of yellow and
grey and a bit of white
and lots and lots of grey
and some pink and grey
and necks and wings
and grey and are they
bald heads I can’t tell
because there is just
so much grey
but
here comes
the rainbow
to shake us
all up.
© Carl Burkitt 2021
Carl tells tales 