BLACK GARDENS David Berridge

The Red Ceilings PressMMXI [rcp 24]

www.theredceilingspress.co.ukwww.redceilings.blogspot.com/

BLACK GARDENS David Berridge

five lumber supports from Poundland

support your lumber

We kneel on the floor

We untie the string and unroll the black paper

We cut a strip of black paper and fold it in half

We sharpen the crease with our fingers

We shift to sitting with our back against the wall

With a pencil on the black card we outline

We cut around the shape with our scissors

love memistakecompost forcompote

told the story so fast he was beautiful

but no one understood a word

told the story so beautifully he was lost

fast & lost & beautiful & he & story

hes atat th ecomp uter

holding one free trainer aloft

writing touches upon the string

it trembles

transmits a reception

only of its own diameter

kneel

the

black

gardens

cuckoo

cloud

sun

sings

the wifi’s down he’s dieing

take away letters

black gardens balk

proposed purposed description

Welcome back black trees

pastaorall

the band Black Gardenswho only performin the dark have broken upwe think

strings criss-cross the room

what I mean by “we”

everyone is texting in the black gardensxx

growl yoar owm

the trainer

makes a break for it

through the Hotel du Vin & Bistro

brd sfl eye doc org

happy residue on the jars of Ulrikas Amen corners

fly past of black computer bags over Poundland

git in red of old eye dears

hue man relish hand chips

tether nat oral weld

grrden

flower faces flower teeth faces teethfaces teeth flowers facesteeth teeth faces teethnothing in the black gardens today

invention of the black rubbish sacks

we are excited

in the black gardens

yes the sun on my back the strawberries learning to walk

her last boyfriend apparentlyput his feet through the bath

AFTERNOON 14.57

I don’t have good visual memory

The differencebetween the poet and the visual artist is that your illegible is public but my illegible is legibleso stop reading over my shoulder

beyond the span of a human lifeI had carried my lap top

I agree writingshould be as publicas the acts it accompanies

I’ve noticedyou hold your breath when you are thinkingbe careful about that

(loc ked int othewe tpa ges)

in the manner of French monks

who forbidden to eat meat

classified the otter as a fish

in the black gardens we askwhat happened in the football

England 1 - Germany 4

but this is Scotlandmaybe they are having me on

becauseofthecold

is

it

a

story

to

be happy

black

gardens

cut

them

selves

out of

black

gardens

grow

my

black gardens

black

gardens

singerror

6pm we thinkwe have finishedin the black gardens

that “we” again

l g o o o o k u t s i i n d t e o

t h e

b l a c k

g a r d e n s

X = God lost

treesbeestreesbeestreesbeesbeesbeespoetsbees

David Berridge

lives in London. He curates VerySmallKitchen. The Moth is Moth This Money Night Moth is published by The Knives Forks and Spoons Press, Kafka Thinking Stations by The Arthur Shilling Press, and Lemonade by LemonMelon.

Thunnerplump

And so, we say,friendship ends herein a tidal column of cloudthat crumples the sky.

Today has the saddest eyes,a tick of rainbefore the thunderswallows us into a house

roomed by chance.Raw edgesof what might have beenscrape my metal fillings.

Magpies people the lightlike an old moviedevoid of soundbut for a theatrical pianist.

We close the bookon the last brick of the storyas dark paint swathesold weathered wood.

The Red Ceilings PressMMXI [rcp 24]

www.theredceilingspress.co.uk www.redceilings.blogspot.com/