What a slothful Tom!
Skinless dirigible on asphalt deck.
Clavicle take off and soft landing.
Clankety-clunk,
Junk or dhobi?
Heinz number nine,
Rubi one Kenobi; ibis eons, zweye,
in the house: dry. Sontag afternun.
sister lulu, father zulu…
A marriage made in heaven. Bless’em.
Frank in dense armour
Mirthful spunk minaret
Echoes on cheese breeze
Curlew imposed at dawn
Of solstice shortest day
Hilly fairy rule
Too shrewd by half
To fool the daftest brush with death
In the bleak mud winter
On Solstice shortest day
Quite a Wok.
Urizen-frozen Fell
the frozen, lurid
mud Grey mod.
What Budgerigar?
Or plumed fallow
grazing dark dimensions
such as these:
saying thussly.
`your dreams shine without you or me
capably…’
taking of notice. I wrote these words when
I realised that, given scant regard,
we are
Diahann:
the weakened
flutterby.
Self pitied Plumbers
do not find
themselves
Down
when your trousers
fall
the chips
are…
That’s that out of the way for another
year, thank god, anything good on? Repeats.
Surprise, surprise. It’s a wonderful life.
Gone with the wind. The great escape.
Born free two. Follow the yellow brick road
Out of Africa…
£80
The role of finance capital in the
Merchant of Venice
Special
Christmas
Poem:
Excellent!
Scintillating!
Did not hear
the sea
see the sky.
Then I
Saw an exit
called ‘Pleasure Dome’
over soft
boiled eggs.
Walking is
Bipedal
Ought to more.
Cross the floor.
Out the door.
Primeval
Are you in a gourd place, a worth thee situation?
Culmination: Dulcimer Concerto with Verbs
If not, how not? Where are you? How are you? What is to be done?
Let me be & let me live!
In bed, in pain, in doubt, idling,
worrying, resisting, defying, ignoring,
avoiding, suffering, tormenting, confusing…
Sofa so good. Comfy sofa. Groovy duvet.
Womb somewhere. Luvverly.
Somewhere baby.
Rainbow.
Love glow: glove snow
Melt and moult.
Go Hen woman.
Cool and crispen oven…
Go, go, go-go
Pen woman…
Return to Zenda
So far
And no further forward
Somedays
itisnotmeanttobe…
Quidnuncs flaidh cheoil:
how’s your ole terror feyther?
Still on the run in Spain?
And your mother, don’t you love her,
the twisted sister of Cain.
And you, you monster,
a towering babble of lardo
thinking we’re lesser devos,
are you well in this world,
did you churl of curling
or gainsay Brian Boru?
