Yes, you spotted it.
Saturday morning once again.
Bumptious wireless nattering.
Time is a smartphone lost in the wash.
Turn back the clock an era.
Pete Conrad is goofing on the moon.
Retreat into dreams.
Vacate white screaming rooms.
Hide keys to secrets
in fast forgotten crannies.
Robbing the rich is a crime.
Robbing the poor’s Capital.
Get that coffee down you, pal.
You need it more than you know.
Elliptic cryptic triptych
Larder of Turkish Delights
Erroneous Bosch
Chemical cosh created
For dosh crazed Eternity
Polemical cant
Canonical rant
Never behave as your told
Act your shoe size not your age
Dolores del Rio
Slept naked and light
Under a mosquito net
When the howls started
Red ants enveloped her
Wading defiant ravenous
Steadfast as Durutti columns
About her omphalos
Lapping crass molasses
Slow high thin black cloud
Bisected the fulsome moon
As a cut throat razor rent
Her mindseye’s worst nightmare
Of being eaten alive
When our hero Joe Gobi
Got wind of what happened
He hit the tin roof
‘A travesty…that’s what it is’
Silence loud as no cicadas
Echoed round the caravanette
We had no stomach for the sea
Night was falling anyway
It was back to the pueblo
For anchovies al fresco
Tea tree pungency
Midday twenty three.
Kilbride’s secret went
to the grave with him
everso tiny
peanut butter sandwiches
stitched into his stomach lining
there were no flies on Kilbride
just wasps and hornets
Pretty common for late August
In Andalucía
Observations of a soggy flower
do not set the world ablaze.
There’s enough grief to
go round these days
I suppose
common old perennials
grow back when people don’t.
So sorry Lily,
you’ve had your fifteen minutes
Father lampshade,
Mother rug,
go gliding upstairs
through dreek formless fug,
real time is taking shape.
~
Thus can Moby Grapeseed dwell
in grotty motley,
spangled alcazar;
nasalizing hypnotic
verse into a well-travelled
voice recorder on the jakes
for acoustic, hygienic
and ambient purposes.
~
Here he will be found by a
stranger with an
axe and smartphone,
who will flush out thoroughly,
do his duty and wash his hands
…sailing littoral lagoons
isthmus archipelagos
seasides of tranquility
peace pours soft kisses on
atlantics city shapes
slowly watching conveyors
silhouetted by the moon
Under tree mad vistas
Wind ruffled brutal sages
Earthquake shuffled riders
Canopies crow shadows show
Scooped Caligari canyons
We shake and thrill as grinning
Scrofula eats violets like puma
Mid-seventies pro
situ critiques of critiquers
half-torn narky junky rags
heaps and hefts of twaddle
drafting epic wotsits
arcane metabollox
sure to knock Ulysses
into a cocked hat
(hanging on the wall)
unfinished ineffable
absurdist dramaturgy
mad philosophers
with haunting names like
Coathanger & Toothbrush
Wires, cassettes, paperclips
And two holy matching socks
Grimbeau 