The day after the day after wholesale slaughter flyblown autumn gossamer persists stubborn as winter rowan becomes tonight more trash to incinerate sweet horse chestnut We endure stale lavender All the greens become obscene rude yellows stark enchanted azure No chance of heaven at eleven. As in the black night a certificated medic calls to say: Life goes on without us then just like glimpses promptly disappears
Thrill us, Alfie do!
Sink your fangs in this virgin
Soft white downy flesh
Rise up crimson eyes bulging
Jowls dripping blood saliva
He loved his Cornish Cream Teas
he does the poor old devil
I sat staring wide awake At a snow white candle on an empty round table Sired for wounding Or so it feels, A beast of field & stream This pelt makes it real: Lank, soaked, maculate creaking, cloying character armour…
A warning! Do not trip On the large smooth shiny spongey granite muffin At the door In the night It slid there whipped cajoled & now wet-nursed by tender urgent scrubber Those same handmaidens who passed on this message: ‘I just curled to say I love you. Skip.’
Still as farmyards
The last day of august goes
Out like a vagrant
Holding her father’s torch
Smiling knowingly
Write what you know
they said
I don’t know much
I replied
Smiling knowingly
The day pans out
It’s vast
How tiny are we
Specks
Smiling knowingly
rustic plastic flower pots, empty seed boxes,
wanton rakes, shiny blue hoes, and general crap strew the garden,
frit chickens stand hushed for once:
parched crisp hollow
fennel, dayglo haywire, mile-a-minute bindweed, well-weathered crimson
strips of once useful wood, a yellow crate cum side table, the broken once
green now taupe plastic chair, a fat permissive raven,
and I conclude,
that little white passenger aircraft
looks very like an
aphid from where we sit,
lapping the last honey sun the portly
seggins assisted in the
making of this year
empty hour glasses
litter shattered livelihoods
dress rehearsing sighs
try not to laugh out loud much
as you’ve heard them all before
My homework ate the dog
meek winds sing small ills: niffles snuffles niggles gripes Gene Wilder’s gone stone deaf dazzling daisies pomp no more turning leaves bonfire bright -must we go to grown up school this time every year?
Cleaner, obscener, Greek God-like, romantic visionary gobshite, deified by self and mothers, receives less than enthusiastic response from beleaguered eejit trojan woman
Hoi polloi turn away sneering like Mutley at yet another abortive ruse by ludic evil genius to ground flighty, devious Columba
long slow road to equanimity stretches far ahead, distorted by sunstroke induced hallucinations, delusions of grandeur guaranteed by new toilet seat
obscured by cloud, the righteous dispute perceived flash promises of non-stop wall-to-wall sunshine on venture out
itchy feet pandemic induces potassium permanganate price hike on world markets, espadrilles nationalized in Atlantis
huge wave of despair sweeps over low self esteemers—
what is the incidence of Alopecia in Appalachia?
Dorset five held indefinitely by Etruscan potwallopers, Foreign Office remain vigilant. Time is of the essence.
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
Sphincter the catnip died in nineteen sixty-nine what was the other one called? Ernie the Mouser he died too the myths play at will you grow attached with glue crustaceans of rock limpet, mollusc, squid theodolite, arbitrage scuttling about the old gaffe seeking a whale of a time licking up spilt milk not worth crying over now baby blue
Grimbeau 