…floorsucker churns, provokes
gaspings and breathings
safe depthiness is spored
making me splutter
like a pudgy, tetchy baby.
This grief hugs me hollow.
fig lungs implode:
Lites
Bladderwrack
& oyster beards
strangle raddled eyes
Blasted by terror
we stare in mirrors
for escape not reflection.
Look there only when
lamp posts resemble fate.
Eggs boil not poached fore a changeling
& anna bun dance ov culd sweetmeat carved craythur combobulatio ob pink chicken squirrel, Black Forest Gurty Torso & Tyrolean yodellin’ hamstrings, incomplete minus granary seed thatched toast to hourmaker: Der Mood Molecule
Make me happy. it smiles
today again, s(un breaks through grey gloom.
Limbs visibly loosen- Eeks & Yipes
On the evergreen awks
Of Bar Baloney.
By Gum! Real gone quince ate duvet. The chancery of that!
Must go.
Elephant stick pot in the offing (door knock echoes in mosaic hall)
Once in a lunchtime (talking heads poke noses through letterbox flaps?)
Bargain Hunts a freebie. Michaels on the Micky-Takers. Quakers on the Rum
‘Wing it nut my bast advice. Hise up in the cistern.’
‘Do-dah-do-dah-dada-dray:
Roll up, roll up!’
Lamp blacked,
eyeless equine figurine
On top of
odd Algarve shell cluster,
Rococo Chanel
Majolica,
Mickey Finns
Depictions:
…puce nouveau water, juice of absinthe,
oil slick oil, ugly carved frame, smoothly rugged
turned, crude carved canopy, gold leaf burnished,
house well-furnished, arsenic green crafted…
We
cut it up for toothpicks
and firewood.
Sent it up in smoke.
From the diaspora fug something comes.
A startled hobby horse made of old, iron bikes
painted frilly and
Twinkling
Her feeble
Patience
exhausted if
Glenn Ulf & the Moon Brethren
who tampered with
the Relic
Sock.
~
Dismayed
but unruffled
went she
stepping
gingerly
~
on skin
& snow
flakes,
& found
oxygen
consoles
her soul
cruet of heaven,
crooning grace
‘…need me till I want no more.’
Bliss
after Evensong
she
reposed
immersed in
quilted peachy luxus
idly flicking through
‘Lego, Fretwork,
and
Micky Mouse Ballrooms’
edited by
Blitz Furls,
Fred McGod,
and Paul de Koch
When books are too long,
life is too short.
When books are too short,
life is too long.
Six is now
the new nine.
Itchy snitch:
Scratch sublime.
Live your life
in one day.
Name your date.
Stick to it.
Time is a
Conduit.
Dream this:
magnum opus lazulies
goose cystic bandoliers,
Daft, soft, puce mask
Blank buttercups
adorn droll seagulls;
Sometimes squashed
sonatas bleed;
small floppy alps
blister the horizon;
gorse wind heathers
…
Here’s how in
the hear
& now
brown cow
& gate
left open field
as far as
The
Ice Can
Sea.
Act your age
Not your
Shoe size
What! I said
Two thousand
Five hundred
Millimetres
Shitting
your boxers
first thing
throws One
right off
One’s stride
I see you
angry and puny:
Cursefully,
tearfully,
damning your lot,
as you scoop it
sensibly
like a grown-up
from the kitchen sink
and fetch it with aplomb
to the awkward
jakes
for final
Absolution
Grimbeau 