Love trains leave by night
How swift desire passes
in this Wistful age of steam
Ecstasy clouds good judgement
All’s unfair in love
We are all war Criminals
Awaiting trial by peer
Group hysteria
Tread wary hunted Minotaur
Now standing on Platform Four
A seagull bound to tell lies
Omniscient eye seas lullaby
sleazy keyboard,
diligently counting syllables,
keen hidden gleanings,
scatter chipped prune stones,
reminiscences…
behaviourally disturbed rook
that mistook
all night pharmacy
for a sweetie shop
Eleven bellows
cogitate thirty eons
of time that never was, is,
or ever will this day forth:
More coffee and quanta, my Duck?
Und warum nicht, my Leda?
Back again at just gone ten
after a power breakfast
with Mr Clay, Ms Self, and the Demi-urge.
A frozen garden, a propped
up green wheelbarrow glued
to an icy rotary clothes line.
Frost suspends decay of jungle beanplants.
What else did you see?
Or hear? Or taste? Or touch? Or smell?
Fields in collision, tectonic plates lying shattered,
or just another trad night down the Greeks.
I see.
So thought Inspector Spangle, flicking through
the photos from scenes of crime:
no time, no space, just action
invisible, eternal delight,
energy in a bun dance.
What could be less clear than that?
Yea, housing, phone calls, Victoria Derbyshire…
I know, I know, I know. Stop nagging me!
It’s all work in progress.
One
o’clock news blackout
Losing all integrity
Over emissions
Aleppo massacre
hogwash lubricant green room
full of terrified white elephants
Modest interim proposal—
Cannibalism
Nothing to add
Perhaps
I’ll go back to sleep
After drawing the curtains
With indelible charcoal
Inside our discrete brainwaves
suppressed desire to broadcast hogwash today too busy making myself gross again- Hey Tiresias! quit moping round them knobless herms and tributes go saddle up my Hippocampus let's make a big splash downtown at sundown a proper shindig down the five and dime
Go attend those dismal drapes
cheapest seventies vintage tat
lurid floral potato prints
emitting neither light nor heat
prize them open to reveal
a frosty morning, frosted green
frosted black, frosted silver
frosted yellow cars, parked up
neatly by frosty drivers
living cryogenic lives
Witch black liquorice
Void awash particles stress
levity breeds gravity
Time bent space compressed
Fractals spawn new chaos
Alternative eyes
Turn a light back on
Inside stark basilica
Came across The Book of Sand
beneath ragged jagged edge
buff beige dusty envelopes
(yes, I am a lady of letters)
bright yellow blue black cover
page turner guardian
tiger stares me out,
Aztec Mesmer—stark migraine
must open the window,
sudden urge to air the air
nice icy chill low sun
cold steam chuffs bright misty air
horse nostril ectoplasm
novelty will soon wear off.
Write to ease the passing of time
seems as good a reason
as any I have heard so far…
Grimbeau 