Tarmac patch water tower
wood stump clearing dip
and two
little double roundabouts,
flat binocular
white nipples
sullied by tyre smear,
skids, and fast
turning people
rushing to the bomb
plant past gypsy site,
through wood and common bends
and twists and dents
to the Falcon’s nest…
A blind, dead driver
in front
slows and
indicates all options
before a left at the lights opposite
a set sun of cheap stuff
and loss leaders
that call the believers
and sinners to shop.
Late sultry night and nearly sultry morning.
DODI? More royal dross, oozy does it,
nice & oozy.
Hot & Cold liquid. Door?
Scratch? Make enquiries without.
PC Pigeon, Flying Squad, scratching around
like Inspector Hound – more of a sniffer who likes a snorter.
Barmy cops the blame for littering path.
Does his bit, Hound.
Slowly make drinks of coffee and codeine,
think food: rashers possible. Go get it together:
fill kettle, don kaftan, open door
(already did that above).
Verses! Form and content.
Wrestling with Flowers:
let it flow out, only drips from an empty tap.
Sticky so shower laters.
Gutpowder arrives; cause celebre to
noisy gobsloth to be centre of attention:
failed and fucked off!
Trappism recommenced at 10:45.
Start to detox tomorrow; fancy a sausage!
Quite peckish, yesterday’s heat mostlike;
thunder earlier; food is good. Sausages on: pollop shopping;
feeling flat, food and incantation desired;
crock steady, one day at a time sweet nexus.
Sharpen up with a shower, kick out the jams…
Note a relapse to ultra-brevity,
so often happens when fractious, hereshow:
skirting the zone, hit and run prowler.
Regard the Fearstalker
See the pushy, nagging whippet.
All the trees
are brown
and the
carpet is grey.
I went
for
a splash
on a summer’s day…
Rite of Spring on: unseasonably
Pleasing accompaniment while
Sitting daringly naked with towel
To hand and an eye on my genitals
Ensuring they are not overexposed
To the sun.
Having been burnt before like this.
When the Rite is done
(less than thirty minutes)
Back indoors to lunch on cider and crackers,
And, gently creaming my largest organ.
It is the centenary of this Rite.
…Adolf Hitler, Bob the Builder, Sting, and Fu Manchu
Etruscan verandas, Chessington zoo, trams and a Boy called Sue…
Meanwhileaway…
In the belly of the quintessential beast:
One mo! I must bare my feet, take off socks,
Step deftly into scalding, saline soup
Wherewithin…
Wild Dogmen, blood axed racketeers, them sort;
Merged into angry bellowing crash waves
Trading, pillaging, raping, and knitting.
Heel touches first through steaming steam dipping down.
I shiver, goose pimples bloom, tender soles
Softly settling into purple water…
Middle-aged callow chants and chick pea stew.
Lukewarm Ointment smoothed in careworn lost eyes.
Hind-sighters rushing after scornful truth.
Saps still raking moon under the morning
Maple syrup
Pull the curtains and reveal that wow sky.
Thin cloud sculpts a convalescent moon:
wondrous shivering sad silver presence.
The clouds permit this harbour of head space
Provoking basks to chill before dumb dawn.
Then watch through the fan window,
gaze past the submarine aerials and chimneys
and glimpse a fulsome face on Kerry’s mad coast.
Promenade across sad Bantry and stark Beara,
then southward to Baltimore and the big seas.
When bright dead and other sleepers cop this
they abandon calm: and bark wild with wonder.
Epic phone call underway
Mutti’s birthday
Nineteen forty three was it?
Wind sprinkles hose droplets:
Sprinkler.
Faux summer afternoon:
Shower how it’s done.
Easy racial stereotypes
Sturmers
Drangers
Blowers
Errors
Spiv summershadowspots:
Forget me pink wotsits
How reminiscent of one
Who threw the bathwater
Out with the baby bio.
Protozoans and zoans; krypton tripped on
A fat, docile cat.
Splat!
A commotion ensued:
fur, screech, ouch, run…
boxed in
in the garden
permanently dormant.
Cist! My arse
Tells a tale
Of
Punishment.
I am arrived at the mausoleum.
Linoleum cool marbled purple floor
Helpfully reflecting afternoon sun.
A resurrected garden through the door
Seems closer as shadow lengthens distance.
No matter; we continue our approach.
Outside is, as always, not what it seemed,
As usual old habits and patterns
Recur: lassitude and wreckfullness soon
Assume the crown: spongeful someday slatterns
Vying for positions of insignificance
Beneath a tree, by the spuds and garden fence.
Grimbeau 