A dead unrequited tree has fallen bridelike on the sunrise. in all likelihood the crazy sparrows will befriend it bring it grubs and larvae to create utopia from its folds since castration the buffalo spaniel gives a wide berth to prone toxic temptations sullying his vista: language, he inferred later, leaves no trustworthy fossils
Obscenities are music to dandelions your foul mouthed garden is full to bursting Unlike bores to endure at wakes the first to arrive the last to leave do you recall we were happy unwhaling a mushroom quiche on a willow pattern platter and garnishing it with corrugated parsley? By this time it was whatever it is nobody slept well and we woke refreshed safe in the knowledge the weeds were cursed some days now you just serenade the brambles when the power tools have gone shopping when the weather is bad you write sestinas psychokinensis is a dandy word
Dylan movie ambles down below jampacked with namedrops cameos and zen flavour wisecracks: up here in the crows nest full of psychic anthrax and chintzy liquorice the ice floes pause for thought. Opening the landing window & admitting the savage boreus-- What the fuck were you playing at? You knew about the kerosene
Sleepless till gone dawn, took pills at five, got a few hours, listened hard to Alexei, Mary, and the bird tapping on the landing window then let out the dog and did tai chi with a vape before the postman had good reason to walk past. Thought long and hard about water spilling over the bridge of sighs, and then thought of you saying 'Fuck me a flying gondola, upside down inside handcuffs.' If things keep going this well you might end up getting discovered. Then what? Splash...
repairing telephone booths is a thankless business these days people walk past laughing pointing dark squares just yesterday a trout exploded in front of the shop wish i had caught that for posterity one day i am going west for rest and recuperation a place without wires a place with no connections to repair the swim of hunchback trout
One stupid broad don't make a summer to accomplish this onerous task you require: a pride a gaggle, a posse, a murmuration, a flock, a swarm, a riot, a host, a crowd, a plague, a herd, a school, a shoal a parliament, a phallus...
Vast reserves of morpheus lean back satiated banked up by king size willows empty phials bob on the Lethe. moonlight rakes the memory like sten guns on the lilac Adriatic this was never a town for joyriders on a spree joined kindle unlimited for kicks, a read on a passing cloud groupthink gets cricks it in the neck have i spent bad money? a little bit of testimony does a body good illuminate thine selfhood
Daft as a thrush in song, peppered by turtle dove shot, endangered specious snipers go to pot seen nobody but your familiars since the shodding excursion. No discourse on the telling bone except to the pharmakon one egg owed to the corner shop. Sir Noot ate all the crusty bread. Mettoys crude long vehicles jacknifing in your head as i breathe i grows rich transporting ancient coins over the funicular isthmus on the tough bodies of the cattle of Bashan
Orifamme burst open dawn canopy back of horse chestnut plantation on the cusp of five-thirty. opposite this old place, the beige house was dark red and outside here the border hedge a defiant pea green the like of which you have never seen before. After tablet medication, you mulled over the holy thought and avian tweet of the day before all things bright and beautiful from the guest Rev Livermore's finest work got sullied by the sleazy apocalyptic six o'clock news As you drank up your coffee you took in the morning congress of robin, pigeon , and sparrow on the bread strewn table and it raised a smile. Then it was back to the pneumatic bed for daybreak dreams. You woke to Wimmins Heure; hear small plastic bags are banned and amoral breast implanters from the continent havebeen brought to book and must cough up substantial damages. it amuses you when a tory lady gets berated by fiery emma's cross questions suggest mealy-mouthedness. you are still constipated but well read up on derrida getting busted on his trip to prague in the early seventies (the grounds for his mission to deconstruct the usa?) as ever your words are not flowing freely; has your twitter inactive account been corrupted? I sincerely hope so.
On the ruby doorstep before you stands a parcel for Professor Phipps, It contains a pouch of pulverised sage intended to keep your lonely onion amused over a plague infested Yule.
A thermo-nuclear fog envelops the sleepy town of Trollenberg as erotic zombies fill dishwashers incanting the curses of Mali and smiling on the memory of Nkrumah’s wizard foxtrot.
‘Maradonna’s dead’ They chant.
‘Good, but what of little Diego?’ Prompts the whip cracker.
‘Mudlarking, no doubt. Skipper. Prizing dentures from washed up concubines of the East Indian mob enshrouded in sepia drab.’
A sable crow observes all of this from a tendrilled groyne. The ocan is muted, unspectacular, vivid. Waters lap. A heat pipe chortles in darkest Abrasia.
‘Will he wash?’ Chant the wanton zombies
‘In good time, when the opportunity arises.’
An emphatic whip crackles.
‘The crusty stench is beyond the pale of the daily luminal’
‘Up here on Waum Wen we call it crud’
‘Crud!’
‘Poor wee Diego’
