‘Sewer grapes, capers, tourque armada…’
Will the din ever cease, what for a moments peace!
Giblets & Ghibellines, a splurge of ante-pastor.
Parricidal, opus deified, maple turnovers,
old sage oakum, and mudlark, turdal
tidal thames, sloops in misty river,
Quiver.
An assignation in Flandirge Veal.
Conspiracy with merge derby, whispers and flies.
Glue the tumbril to the blade.
A deal is made, we swell at dawn to Deptford Dock.
Reggie enraged, Pelvis, cakestand Pioneering joinery… all is envy all is bendy. Mortal coma fruitbat spreads fruitlice, fine toothed comb, fine tooth comb. A flux on all your mouses! …chikken scurry, funny money, the Emile Zola Pianola
She
coughed a cough someone could hear
grabbed and kissed the solid air,
looked into the Frigidaire,
and put away the butter.
He
folded up his underwear,
placed them neatly on a chair,
washed his ears, his nose, his stare,
and went off to play Mah Jong
They
felt the need to disappear,
not another fucking year,
like the last yet more severe,
once they had a future.
That
was a thought that got too near,
pledge to not give in to fear,
get the fuck right out of here,
find a warmer climate
It
is just the time of year,
the fallen apple, the prickly pear
far’s too far, near’s too near
the reason of the season
Grimbeau 