small flying things
observe him shuffling in the morning sun in t-shirt and fag pocked boxers, shambling about in a battered panama feeling better he says
half and hour’s worth of washing up and hoovering upstairs and a break before a shower and some evening sunshine if it stays he says
looking at old doodles in notebooks full of portraits of despair and dishonesty it was much worse than words could ever in themselves he says
renascent caesarean section moment of involuntary entry into a world full of priests overheard from the womb giving up last unction he says
orphans fear having orphans eggs the holy man would tell us and that kissing made you pregnant before marriage but never tell a soul he says
the sound of that wry dry chuckle was common in ancient Mesopotania when sex went on for six days and six nights without a sign of slowing down he says
strand long empty strand giant crisp bag onrush don’t push me coz I’m close to the hedge down by the river endorphine surge of reveries to come he says
Grimbeau 