Is there something wrong with everything, a flaw, a rift, a fissure, the meerest hairline fracture inbuilt obsolescence has a lot to answer for; so, later today dangling precariously upside down by the ankle attached to a withered yellow rubber band I will venture to examine various suspect roof tiles If I have the time Or indeed the inclination
Like Keaton
Granite fey
Agog
Aghast
Watching you
Alone
Walking away
Those sublime hands
Thrust deep
That old grey, fleecy,
Hoody down
Right to leave
While the goings
Bad to bloody
Pointless
Tooth-Hurtyish,
twinkling casually on
the blackened ovaries:
bleck and wite unite
and fight in equaliser dreams;
might have beens, should have beens,
mass in your strangulated,
nutritionless mind,
in your dreams like somewhere safe,
nuzzling down,
cuddling up in green mossy pot,
snug as a bug in a rug.
#1
What kind of fuel are you?
Wind, she replied,
What about you?
Paper
#2
When do they beguine
The beguine?
After the
…
#3
The night had
A thousand
Eyes
Ouch!
Nine hundred and ninety-nine
#4
Nights in White Satin:
Freezin’
#5
Young and green
Only seventeen
okra
#6
Who let the dogs out?
Who let them
in?
#7
And now
The end
Is
Here
petrified rainbow
flaccid lambeosaurus
washed up in Bexhill-on-Sea
—aren’t men useless?
Donut talk juss eat
Said bulging face
Illuminating
My face with spit
Sure I butted him
Split the orange
Like two thumbs do
Issugh jurnee inn
Two A toothy ungnome
Jellow nomadick
Fine dingduh pursa fleedum
Inner bling-ding ovum I
Big joB geTs me Up
coNgress on aNti-mA:tters
– wasH & blOw Dry
Back Abed fOr SoMething
uNderStood & mOre zEddds
(c’minG neXt sEconD…)
Fluffup bed & pUll bLinds toO.
SlEep NogO zonE
(aArgh, diDdums!)
6.51: coLd, cOld, colD –
uP the theRmOstaT tO 22c:
nEws, sNooze, cRuisE…uP theM woodY
stAirs to wasHhouse
(acc: a mUzak buGleR, cHip)
cOOkhouse sOunds siZZle,
sPlash, coLd wAter RunninG…niCE!
Bullets rain,
winds prance,
Cold suns rise,
firebirds dance.
Sirens wail,
beggars chant:
Honi soi qui mal y pense.
Grimbeau 