Dusk’s here (round half four),
falling to a soundtrack:
Jumpin’ Jive,
Cab Calloway.
1943
Cab?
Must be short for something.
All I can think of just now is
Cabellero
though I have no faith in it.
Surely, no-one would be called Cabin,
or Cable.
Not for a first name anyway.
Well, I’ll go to the foot of our stars!
It is Cable.
Spelt Cabell.
Something to do with cowbells?
Perhaps.
If you go down
to the woods today
you’re bound to
bump into
some trees
Robert Desnos
Read
My
Palm
Gremlins can piss
on the Pope
best not do
it on his
Mother
Wild notes:
A bit of a whopper!
Had to get these down before I got stuck
cheroooted to the table.
Thanks to Danny Baker.
Warmed my butt and sacrum
with the oat and lavender bags
flicked through the morning stations for
distraction,
inspiration,
information –
in short, company.
Other voices.
Came across the Danny Baker Show,
a show I like and always forget to listen to
I am so bogged down in my listening ways.
The item was about Greenland’s timezone-less centre;
how they called it Greenland because Vikings
wanted to deter invaders from their cherished Iceland;
another item mentioned ‘thundersnow’
and I was away. Up for it, writing came first
and I made some jots:
These are they.
Saturday mornings Punk Odyssey
Drongo pomes dialogue.
The Vanmitzvah;
little feral red van
becomes
big red van/bus does
not stop at my gate.
Passed by a boy: came back a man.
Returned, emerged.
Apple in a football ground.
Thundersnow on a lowlight
Out of the long grass came the snake:
An
Anaconda.
Microchipped
By Bear Grills.
That’s why here –
Orinoko Crescent, Swindon…
GPS!
Last week:
The Piranhas
…
Somedays it rains wonder.
Not this one…
Gaslessness: a bad start.
Sleeplessness: played its part.
Fecklessness: sad old fart.
Is there money still for tea?
There we are.
Banged one out, as they say;
never mind who. They do.
Whomsoever this they is.
I do not know…
She fibbed.
And she knew that I knew too.
If you want to find out, like I do, call her at:
Pennsylvania 65000.
I can’t get through.
The reception is dreadful
in this carriage.
Perhaps I’ll try the caboose
after luncheon.
Growing colder fast,
sat wrapped up under
duvet,
sporting historic giant purple Woolly.
‘Long Arm’s, hasn’t he?’ said the mother knowingly.
‘Yes, very’ replied the daughter: curtly.
Cutely.
The arms on the blue one are very odd
The measurements were given over the
Telephone:
In real time.
I shot an arrow in the air
it quelled a Shriek
On
Finistere
That sweet Blossom, Tearsday,
loved all things
Petunia,
Luxuriating
there whenever Chance permitted.
Chance was a creature of habit,
smiled on Tearsday three times
on Thursday mornings
between Shipping Forecasts.
Gerald the Burn-Out
dwelt in anti-cyclones,
and traipsed in murk and squall.
A most unlikely couple: Which they weren’t.
Grimbeau 