Thames Dutton
The
Weather caster
Concerns me
Peculiarly
Plausibly gesturing
With ersine feedback
Grumph
Brrughm
Hands
-
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The
Weather caster
Concerns me
Peculiarly
Plausibly gesturing
With ersine feedback
Grumph
Brrughm
Hands
So, this is wroot
To derendes epoch
Saline killllls water
Lanbs breed slaughter
She walks in duty
Carmelite
Breaking wind
When no one else is there
Just like the queen does
Time
&
I
are
warm, fed, filthy.
Clean up afternoon
about to commence…
Flood!
Gas! Gas?
An bumbling of Ecstasy
Gerald the duds!
I.e. –
extraneous clobber, tea-cloths,
spoons, spinakers
& various other
absorbent materials
must be procured!
-Water’s pissing out
the cunning light bulb…
All may perish in electric shocks!
*
After something of a flurry
(containing an ill-timed phone call
about a flat tyre outside a Service Station)
I eat ready salted crisps and listen
light-hearted
to ‘A Night of Bear Mountain’
by
What’s ‘is face (must Google that);
then,
with the dripping ceased,
I read about mixed bathing in Minehead,
Giggled modestly & boiled
a kettle for more old, new spuds,
As I smoked
chainlessly thinking
poached salmon, solitude,
garden peas and Otium…
Round eleven it burns down
The engines are turning,
churning up
dormant subterranean turtles,
laying flat kerbs for giant cars,
upheaving monitor eggs,
yellow men
coral them in sandpits,
soon they’ll be hatched out
by stray, broody ostriches
weary, careworn nomads,
whose ivory gonads bristle
in brutal
municipal sackcloth
bend to add
another egg to the pyramid
There we are.
After
Full four waking hours
nothing written again.
Okay,
I’ve done a bit around the house and person:
read some news,
thought a lot,
disowned a BMW,
yet…
*
no words yet.
Scarified a singing cake?
No, me not neither.
The Runner beans flower lurid,
linctus thick,
sickening dayglow orange.
The Lemon leaved shrub tree fast asleep.
Eat – 08:49.
Postponed (onset catatonia)
I hurt myself
Today
to see if I was real
Beats a day alone
Listening to the trombonist
Waiting on a serenade
*
Yes, a moon light
serenade plays
Puce sunset sporting
rotating knives
cops my eye
naked colonnades –
you get the idea?
*
Under this a small crouched mammal flits
(though one simply
cannot be sure
for certain in
neon septic light);
were I forced.
*
Struth
(yet again!)
to hazard a guess
I would say an
anteater or
a stumpy mule
philandering
they knelt
they pondered
grimfaced
other wordly
odd
he wolfed
down his lunch
sat back
belched
and howled
approval
There’s something better
on the pad, but I can’t be
bothered any more
Grimbeau 