Ugly Renaissance Baby

seems appropriate…somehow appropriate…somehow…appropriate


durer baby

mad chromatic scales

cry out go forth multiply

fine weather forecasts

always come to pass on by

just like light increases day

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Hand and Gout
Foot in mouth
Advertise for a stand-in
An imposter
Let’s call him Thomas Dolby
Either that or Victor Malby
So I invite him to check
And be checked out down
In Gadd’s Hill
When whoosh! A stroke whooshed
A whoosh like Edwin Drood
I gave then the Trial of Pickwick
A Christmas Carol
Waving farewell
Hand & Gout


Situation abNormal
Each and Everyone fucked-up
—hear no meets Zeno Evil

Risen! Is it?


slob dons long john-johns
chthonic dressing gown crumbles 
down below (Harken! The Bells)
truffle waffle kerfuffle
chronic iconic
gin & tonic
how ironic!

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The beginning of beguine
The hospital bed years
Miracles happen
Wonders never cease
Over eight short years
The blink of an I
In the word was the begin
Ning of the beginning


Our Johanna

Llamas debasement grotesque apartment
Crime of defacement breaking up discouragement
Wind weathered true blue purchasing new health food
Dead geraniums ooze oilslick crude
Drongo emerges in bits
Feverishly exiting crumpled
recidivist’s drunken carcass
black tank prison stint
Blackness thick as creasote lint
Inky pinky molasses
Sado the Gaoler steals a parting kiss
Through cracked thin pursed lips
Chokes on wreaking Treacle
spattered malodorous pelt
Obstinate bowels make last
Opiated loony stand declare:
Get scrubbling hobo: self, dwelling, pots & pans
Get fed up hobo, get water, learn about money
Sort it out this next week, clear headed, full of hope
Those just past were the
annihilate days of cynical grumbles
Everyone left is old or sick
Learn to play misty again
Sport Roberta Flack jacket
Long hot shower ahead shop

So you think you can
get away with writing bling?
Get scrubbling Bobo
If you wannabe a Dylano
Learn how not to sing
Like Perry Como

Seeing and being seen, thought Our Johanna, avoiding the mirror the nervy curtain call. October slumped and flu jabbed lies twitching on the sofa, lookin’ for a gofer, time-Honoured joker, flaky, shaky feeble hand…
Mary-Anne—whatever happened to Mary-Anne?
Got carried off in a big white van,
maimed her old man
half a gallon, rustic jam
Bubbling away in a frying pan
Clung to his hair like a Rubberband

…Will Quince fulfilled his fruity pastoral duties
sound bitten realists winced when they misheard…
Put in a shift—3 hours liquid refreshment

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