A new thousand Fear Reich.
Open vista #9 – Closed for reparations.
Glass Onion luminaries stare at ship’s decanter:
Sense data, Alma Mater,
Seed potato incinerator:
Sub-geranium angstrom tunes.
New era music:
Jerry Lee Lewis…
Slice up the orange
segments on…
aluminium sink top
undulant altarpiece
Orange offering
A savant of the rite
wipes rustic
ludic breadknife
serrates thick zest
splices pith, quartiles
flesh in succulent
ghoulish
garish
gauche
gum shields
skin & pith intact
snaffled up cutish
tense borne by bent paw
over caustic chasm
Sure chariot passes
Imperious, regal, sublime
Sedate above vile
sundry understuffs:
Abysmal unmentionables,
Microbial, teeming rakes
Gyrating about the obscene floor
one of my heads in
bindweed, strangulating
taut shoelace gristle,
fleet heat seeking
missile, destination
amygdala sun spot
Stumbled, hugged, slurped,
puffed the grizzly, mizzly
still born grim morn
Away with the furies,
the septic harpies,
the skivvying puggled blurb,
the chivvying, nagging
behemoth of claptrap and piffle
squatting in my gnomic canyon.
The limescale crumbles line the mug
The unicorn dismantles the cradle
The dish does away with the spoon.
Everyone chips in when
Push comes to shove
At the heel of the hunt
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.’
Like Keaton
Granite fey
Agog
Aghast
Watching you
Alone
Walking away
Those sublime hands
Thrust deep
That old grey, fleecy,
Hoody down
Right to leave
While the goings
Bad to bloody
Pointless
Chill falls fast on fingers,
weighty air,
stark draught,
feet echo shiny,
clicks in corridor.
_
Still, stall stiff on collar,
chiding air,
bark wrath,
face grotto slimy,
bricks in cellar door
Working away at this old stone,
older than you or I,
older than the hills,
the sea,
the sky.
A chip here, a scrape there, turn
it round assisted
by a cast of thousands,
starring Rock
as Itself.
once while drowning
sheepishly
in the Black Sea
a big black boat
snook up and jumped
me from behind
after some time I
pulled what of me
was left together
tucked it up safe in
screeds of belly lard.
a rescue party
arrived and asked
me if I’d seen me.
I said a curt yet
polite no and
crawled back ashore.
Deep dark blue
Indigo Ink
Squids under
Black Seas
She crossed herself
hoping to die
how come she
ended up living
a lie?
A life sentence…
A death sentence…
A syntax of despair…
Quick smart snicker
Polka dot
Gypsy dancer
White skies
Kissed the red earth
Dying to live
Ended up dying
A truth
I do not fit in with anything today
just passing through with as little fuss,
the bare minimum. Today is not
a day dodging knives and barbs,
rolling under punches,
taking issue large and small,
crucial and otiose
No, today I shall be a rough sketch moving,
a fleshed out notion, a shadow of a familiar
I cannot be bothered to recall.
See, it works – I tried to recall.
It is good to talk when no one’s listening,
just pretending, no revealed or hidden agendas,
no issues to take account of. Hassle free.
Grimbeau 