Moderngasm organism, wheeze and
puff: chaosmos indeed. Reality
is something to be read out loud at night
to sleeping cuckoos and sparrowhawks.
A zephyr throws the yellow post-it to
the floor…’Sunder; shags; Jacquerie: Blumenfeld.’
Worramess by Wotan.
Pinball and Dickens, it will rain soon: the window will be shut.
Our hero is unwashable.
His father done bad investments.
Cold uncle with the sneery clerk do not help.
What is worse is that is he must go
faraway from this familiar terror
work for Squeers and dwell in his world.
Back in London the dirty oiks cheered him
on his way and gave him a letter.
he did not read it, forgot it.
We worry about him.
He drops the letter, retrieves it from the carriage floor
and reads:
‘…you can come at night. My spilling has gone with my wallies. Pops.’
A slow heavy fast night of clammy claw
CS Lewis wakes up the coffee hour
Good banks for the rich: bad banks for the poor.
Loose head props a sea of waxy flowers
Lolling on the blue, crucible altar;
Swimming the foamback Bosphorous caprice
Carpetted riviera road floor.
Catch the earlybird bullet to Nice!
Consideration: transportation is
Unavailable at this holy hour
Also calculate the lonely crowds of rose
That spend so much time wallflowering
Patiently awaiting a tender pruning.
Cledgy, mired coach clay, flint, chipping stone way
Or road
Demi light with stars
Open
Big front window room to roam
Sloth slinks up till dawn and bedtime: dog in
Dog out
Pooh! One is grateful for a humongous stale
Log in
Watched over by Winnipeg beavers
Well-ordered sawmill workers of Saskatchewan
Never so big as the mad at the bbc
Fawning sycophantic plum voiced on
A day to dismember ken barlow charged
By bet lynchmob for druidic noncling
With children seven so far Prince Zorba:
Not dead just snoring.
Heed the two houses dwelling opposite
Growing in daylight I cannot see what
I am writing – very exciting and
Unusual typing errors do not
Matter with a pen: legibility
Is the thing. Speak to my legible
Razorbill; get advice and nails cut.
Five a day everyday: honeysuckled.
Police in california dampen
Cold when asked about a disappointing
Flatfish takeaway from Martha’s Backyard.
Cannot see to count the spilt sugar in
Lap swept from the working surface landing
On my leg and cascading to rest like
Sand I am shorsighted and the shadow
Of my seated bulk all obscuring
All that falls before me I will smoke at
Four fifteen am. Single Ladies Final
Between Black Amazon screaming Yank
And White Caucasian screaming blond Yank
Rain unlikely and likely for grunting Spaniard
Man and grunting something Slavian man
On tomorrow, Sunday. Both of these events
Take place at the Roland Barthes tournament.
Fields of golden snails and periwinkles
Crushed by generations of bash foot
Stamping sliding budgeoning foot crunch
And make a sandpit in Paris to play in
Over the weekend and other times if you
Are rich, powerful, and influential
And it is not pissing down a deluge
For there is no ceiling roof for refuge.
To and fro: in and out of play all day
Work done over load and friction empty
Ball. Sweat is the weakness coming out we
Are oxygenerators on a grand
Scale writ large and mind still clear swift sharp
Mass, movement, power: but, slow, paused
Interrupted. Patterned by traditional
Regulation says the court is too big or small.
Time, light, weather, rootlessness, atmospheres…
Heroin Sonnet (One line is absent!)
Vermont’s Original Bag Balm tin laments
a pair of glasses (snapped for advertising
porpoises!), the child’s toy tractor, green
gin trapped naturally: there is floral décor
garish redolent of that chocolate
box, or some Huntley & Palmer’s biscuit tin
containing uncut Ammanford smack?
They ran him in, they ran him down: Besmirched
his name all over town. Self-righteous lazy
solemn nonsense! So, all good things must end
in silence. They were wankers and they
knew it; and he, apothecary, James
E. Blewitt refused to play their silly games.
Thursday, 06 June 2013
1:06 PM
‘…a morning of many tempos – pleasant sunshine and a graceful arrival in the crowsnest, a contemplative shower; yet, the insistent repetition of the alarm clock was a portent. On arriving downstairs, I have to confront, singlehandedly, a defiant and barren hen about to ravish the spinach. Staged mayhem results in a cleaning frenzy of the clutter below and the retreat of Sloth in a Huff to her coop after having to do something…’
Popeye spent the rest of the morning ambulating on the zimmer between house and garden: stretching parchment legs, listening to Beethoven, smoking tabs, avoiding dogshit, avoiding humanshit, relaying coffee cups…result: relaxed exhaustion and sunny alienation in the atmosphere of poisoned, silent dispinachment…
Tonnes
Of Sonnets,
One net son,
Stone nots,
Nests,
Onset tones,
Snot.
Soft font
Toff
Notes
On
Foxes
Sent
Off
He was known to live life dissipated:
Gambolling in crazed buffonery,
Guzzled half a modest brewery.
When his liver, bored, emigrated.
My Uncle Head was steadfast and insistent:
‘Feed me!’ he yelled ‘Til I’m wild euphoric.’
For a pint of gin, no tonic: chronic.
So immaculated homeward: distant.
Ten Afton and a quart of Barleycorn,
stern tea and two, too loud radios
Unwelcomed him the very next morning
as he dimly recalled Jack de Mannio,
gave up on a shower and yawning,
levitated outsidewards to soil the patio.
Back inside he trawled in his shotaway head
and dredged up from its slum, the aviator,
Louis Blerio, who, a century and
one day ago, fetched lobster thermidore
and ate it for breakfast on England.
Head sloooshed a tuft of dog and considered
The perilous return voyage while his liver withered.
07:53
Posted the old villanelle: fitting.
Milkman brings compost: god barks.
‘Cheesemate!’
‘Soreye…’
Petrus
Ichor
Pertrichor
Dog Doos
Grimbeau 