Bulb Time

how can the earth show patch of light in drone colours? fasting of earth while plump- bulbs settle into soil for the winter of living. bold nestling bulbs, with flowers inside, steam heartlessly at this time. beaming tidal bulbs, wolfish with radiance, tho lines are drawn. kindled, metaphysical ramparts of bulbs, that hire dreamy lords and ladies to laugh at the sundered remains of the exquisite action. busted impulse bulbs, squiring the rest of show season into clear relation. born bulbs seething with your gulf. trackless bulbs of feral aroma, prancing into Christmas chess game while Lindsay Lohan pukes new moon. righteous endless bulbs that cannot save, leaving nothing but sleep for the reasonable amongst us. and a poem only owns a tone or two, then shutters down to the dark.


The carnival in the forest leaves no trace,
interior nomad born of autumn bright;
across the campus pillar'd halls hoard sleight
and runic annal-lace.

I crunch these paths so long ago first trod
by me, or something half resembling me:
what one might call largesse or treachery,
has swept the inly-flawed.

Coldly brilliant Fall like nowhere else,
as i again will in this word-heap browse
the chamber of a morning; briefly house
my solitude that melts.

Far, but always at my fingertips,
the thought of war--and how does one decline
our latest gift? except with books or wine
across pried lips.

Panther guides the young seeker

Panther says, “I don’t feel your pain.
The voice explained to me this morning
that enlightenment isn’t bounded by the lines
around the train platform, by the stations
of the cross, by the cardinal points and arrows
drawn along the river bluffs.” Panther says,
“This rite of passage is not a synonym
for ‘experiment.’”

smoke in the sky

8-word poem

Here's hoping
That his girl
Will calm down.

A Newer Ending

You said, unreasonably
cruel, "I never loved you"...
the bullet came from
the barrel of the same gun

blood was shed
before the body fell

I remember, suddenly,
how difficult it is
to re-attach a severed
nerve; each jagged cell

develops a different
map of fibrous endings
or lizards when they lose
their tails, grow fresh ones

stronger, shinier, resilient.
And the shame my memory
bears does not belong
to me but you because

you are the one who
fastened it there.

Eternal Artifice

the sea's porous skin
wrinkles over

limestone bones;

do you take this
immeasurable water
to be your life?

immeasurable because
I cannot see

its whole-ness.

Now, I am a cloud,
beautiful, bodiless
looking down

over the ocean,
over my life;

I can see
how small forever
must be

when I rise
above it.


you can’t eat it but, ten year
old grit, imposto profissional,
sixteen year old art, idiot gram,
still dayglo, nicht vergessen,
walking on letters, one red ant,
iass, see what’s going on, grasses
of the world, das frohliche
wohnzimmer, sad ostateczny,
early computer art, rupocinski,
brain cell dies, what’s real
and what’s not, a sign of,
neostropos, permanent memory,
reality agent, art for the
finder, no, fingertips, juncollage,
still dada, front cover, back,

aged work, deep throttle,
sloggin’, where do you want
your work to appear, jkme,
meat rope, always have to clear
customs, face keeps cropping
up, nothing is too small to
see, nothing more luminous,
how many of these did you
send out, track me down,

ah ha… did you think you were all snugly comfy

with your sensitivities to slotting in, slipping in, tucking in, sneaking in…
I can tiptoe right past your earliest niche, gambling on outcry

whatever happens inconsistencies take [insert] hostage
and in being privy to suss, animation holds ransom ransom

shabh Diwali

Effortless anthropomorphism. Put the tiger’s
medallion on the shrine to the tiger.
Saying it
make it so. Burned the gold coin on the
Ganges riverbank in December.
Take that you
paleface devil from Santa Croce della Potato!
Therefore be of good cheer, for imperatives and
hortatory subjunctives are on special this week
—three for the price of one.
Gnomic aorists
don’t know how to keep a properly appointed
home. And surgeons named Galahad rarely
become stars in Bollywood.
Gorilla grass—
these are the wild sons of the Palimpsest.

Creating Shadow

I should have grown up happy
despite the expectations...
can we be so sure we are
such a disappointment?

And when we pray, what sound
is heard on the other side of existence-
a small, desperate scratching
at the door? I believe that

sorrow is an animal of sickness,
that love is nothing more than
begging for a warmer burrow,
a hand to stroke our fur.

All the scientists of reason, all
elusive, natural explanations
leave us colder, darker, needing
comfort than the shadows

we create.



paul conneally


One of a series of images featuring material found in the tidying up section of INVIGILATOR : DERBY

conneally kev ryan nikki pugh invigilator derby



proposed found audio clip installation 2007

nikki pugh & paul conneally

Note to Self

1st alarm:
(clock says)

In shower
(clock says)

Leave when
clock says


Bone Instrument

to say the least


Your dog has been neutered today.

He may be a little groggy and/or nauseous this evening.


An End to Storytelling

Had I a moment’s rest I would tell you a story, a story that would put an end to storytelling. I would tell it to you slowly, deliberately, slowly and deliberately. I would tell it to you once, and then never tell it again, not to another soul, never again. I would yell it, scream it at the top of my lungs; so loud that all would hear, even the deaf. If I had the time and patience I would tell you a story, a story to end all storytelling, the story of my life, one life among many, the story to end all stories, my life.

Years go by

We agreed to shut down the pages