Grimbeau

Scroodles

Strange Brew (King Kong Garden)

A tea of 
foliage churns our garden round,
        But not a 
tea of 
dull unvariegated green,
        Sharp contrasts 
of all colours here are to be seen;
The light-green 
graceful tamarinds abound
Amid the 
mango clumps of green surround,
        And palms arise, 
gorillas pray, between;
        And over there 
shooting pool the villains lean,
Red,—red, and 
startling like a trumpet’s sound.
But nothing 
can be lovelier than the strangeness
        Of bamboos 
to the eastward, when the moon
Keeks through their 
raps, and the white lotus changes
        Into a 
cup of silver. One might swoon
               Drunken with 
beauty then, or graze and gaze
               On a primeval Eden  persiflage.

A Solitary Mistah

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

The Woman in Red

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

 

Merriweather & Manson Make Out

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

Swimming to Abrasia

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...

Poor Sweet Little Matty

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

Frank Nuns

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...
 



The Worsewick Paradigm

Posted off that lump of shit up there above the date and time
fuck all else to do since the flea circus folded, 
the barn owl coughed,
and we burnt down the lunatic asylum
wonderful weather out there, nonetheless
no hot water to speak of, 
you await the seagull interregnum. 
Where's the presripted drugs? 
Everything but the Oromorph 
coming today. scant revenge for the Valladolid lawn atrocity, 
the blank candour of the rurales, the suffering of Juteland gnomes, 
the crisp decaying thyme of long,
deglected windowsills, the simperings of Little Matty,
the drudgery of elevenses, the carnal whelp of bob tailed dactyls
the maple leaves of bicameral arcadia...
 

Bounteous Pearl White Clout

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

bhuasmi

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



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