Breathe in octave,
in one voice,
the celebration of the fungus,
sharp light on water,
a trout called esther williams
has parasites on its whiskers,
they say: ‘shave this fish, shave this fish’
and slip under a fan dancing turbine
off for porridge & smokies.
Bacon, egg & jungle sarnie,
two bags ready, and an early banana –
that’s my lot, plus crash sleep
(an hour maybe).
Scrubbed scrammed black mirror hob:
Bit of ritual to settle my nerves,
my confusion at that van out there,
and that nagging
constant distant
roaring machine
behind the sky.
Wednesday afternoon
As savants well know
is never certain & could hang either way.
You never know, you just like to pretend.
Grey paint is my usual,
matted not glossed,
ruffled and talced
certainly not groomed
by Governess Pecheur.
Her mild odour
Cologne and cat nip
perverts my lust for
kedgeree and fauve cheeses
Don’t think of England
America’s dutiful poodle
Europe’s rescue dog
capitalism
twenty four seven racket
rancorous fledglings
The Holy Hour
Plenary indulgences
Carrot cake seconds
A jingle in the dingle,
a dongle in the shrub,
a riddle on a fiddle,
the median of middle.
Stepping out in running blues,
shouting ‘Still here, your twerps and twonks!’
who wished me gone for yonks.
Net curtain snideys,
hanging out dry washing
on crooked lines
just to block out the sun.
Gruel!
Trucks splayed on winceyette
Paperbacked up by thumbsail rigging.
Thieved, not in the slightest borrowed
Robbed, not pure good lend-lease film fan
Ships of Liberty cargoing
Senile bananas to far flung
Gerontocracies
These dodgems
Run by ruffians with friends
In low places: naked ventriloquists
Licking smarmphones of pox.
Rant!
Bang the wall against your head
Laughing warm inside when you find
It is only made of tapioca.
Covetous:
It is my stingray!
The screams stopped all shopping in earshot.
Mine (assertive).
Mine (plaintive, filling up, wait for it)
…Mine (balling, stamping, screaming).
Uproar.
The law is present, masculine,
portentous and plump.
A strident protest, indeed.
Young fellow, m’lad!
Trespassers will be prosecuted
Whether they like it or not.
Have a pear drop.
Half man: half musket
Was not was
Noisome
Stroke me branches crest the lawn,
Attracting glances beside
the splendiferous alpine experience.
A dog cocks its leg on the ugly plastic herb cover.
The tiger glows under the daffodil.
Aphids pester gannets
Thrashing in mild dark.
Slow is what it is.
The cream is questionable,
but I have no fear
cautiously prizing the lid
finding caramel and semen.
The red rubber band
on the pastry
turned blue in the freezer.
I leave the door open
to help it find room temperature.
Grimbeau 