Locus: Teeter
Perm-interrupt of daydin,
blight noise,
like thistledown,
calls me down for
an absinthe
and
an anchovy.
Stubborn as
stillborn longhorn,
I wrastle with my conch shell
and succumb
Grimbeau
Scroodles
Tag: Magic Realism
June 19, 2014
Ustulation
Whoops!
A post
Apocalypse
Calypso
May 24, 2014
Veronica Lake
…after a prolonged retreat
back in the sod-all,
back
to the ordure.
Like micky spillane
Complete with
A brain
In a drain
April 18, 2014
Brunch with Gabo
Bacon & Egg
on White,
Celestial
choir sings,
Quarry versus Man.
‘Let any among you who is without
stone,
cast the first sin.’
Sanhedrin rules apply, Oscar.
Heads off
for Harper.
Rock Kasbah.
Whiten
Sepulchre.
Breastfeed
Granite Post
Office Party
Pooper
April 18, 2014
Brooding
Easter
2014:
A
Risible
Epic
Is
On.
April 18, 2014
As God is my Judge…
Rashers for rascals Passion:
I-Plays the sound track,
a bit happy clappy,
Nevermind,
Just
Oldtime
Tradition.
No such thing
Today in Oxford,
Generating widespread Consternation,
the Contemporary Council
thought it for
An Erotic Installation.
April 18, 2014
Forethought…Paws
Smart,
smug Smart Alec sat,
soiled by ibex ordure,
popping vindicates
at established fates.
Marquis de Plonqueur
Mozart Violet echoes
conch in Sea.
All is stop.
No ghosts,
(One did look!)
The door!
Is that a dog?
Would it, could it be?
Back from killing conies,
flushing out fat farm rats,
haring up hills,
racing gannets on the strand.
Yes, don’t be silly,
it was here,
it was her.
Fresh as the icy, blue zephyr,
that bid me: ‘How are Ye?’
April 17, 2014
An Immodest Disposal
Go on, then, if you dare,
Rise up, Croppy Boy,
Glean sinister coin from those, Your Master’s Ouns.
Our spies inform us about your bloody business well,
So, we remain sanguine, aloof, sipping on sweet, iced Spritzers,
Before deploying these Howitzers.
April 17, 2014
DIY
Crimson Cuprinol,
sand fence,
cure and enjoy.
Rude
Health is
wealth,
all the bells ring
and whistles blow,
Geronimo…!
April 16, 2014
Smoker’s Neck
Silence breeds lunchtime.
Tell tale signs:
Blue teeth,
Buboes,
Trombones
fetid Mind-Wort
Hyacynthia…
Up in Maine,
we bathe in Clover,
not Butter.
Grimbeau 