When tempted to run for pinball
do yoga breathing, stand on your head,
and whistle down the wind,
play games
with lazyitis, and why not!
The grizzly nonsense of dossy
dissipation, the thin dry horse
tethered to the crossbar outside
The Molten Slipper Saloon
disaster’s old recipe
Table on the meal when you get
Back home if you have
got a home at all.
Backside,
Z-framed
Larder door
Right angled
Very steep
Leaning still
With brass coat
Hook intact
After sixty years
Provides support to
Green Wheelbarrow
Propped chassis out
Sunbeam ignites
Spiders golden strand.
In the names of gods and sods,
we all perish.
Unlike the giant sink spiders, who,
like Andy duFrais,
made it via drain,
to bask in cool,
silver basins,
asylums,
and bathe in the tumult
of the morning tap tsunami.
Kettle on,
wipe and flush
the mushrooms.
Trousers round
lifeless ankles.
The shame of it!
The shame.
Baby safe in the microwave:
Suffocated. Cars meander still
slate dead drivers slowmo halt
in open sewer.
Ringa ringa roses…
Today,
some place in Shetland,
an upside-down helicopter on sand.
A phone rings, it is my doctor.
He say: ‘I will be late.’
‘Okay’, I say, ‘so will I’.
A cooling breeze
up here
on the dark side
of the sun:
bins rumble
sleepily,
need a feed,
or do I?
Dander up,
Dumbo down…
float like a
gutter fly,
sing like a flea.
Get shorter!
Elmore shores
in the mean
streets of heaven,
mixing it
with the Inquisition:
‘Who hid the Remington?’
‘Peter the Punter.’
Eyes dry
savages muzzled
in dense desert
whirlpool,
vortex,
abyss,
bliss.
Terse nerval Ermintruder
Grunts and moves on.
Rambling yak cheviot.
Hear that harp!
Whisking up
A maelstrom
![[Kidwelly Castle, Carmarthen, Wales] (LOC)](https://i0.wp.com/farm3.static.flickr.com/2584/3751646063_55b3de42a2.jpg "[Kidwelly Castle, Carmarthen, Wales] (LOC)")
Seven-thirty, my life:
cider and ashtray gob, pee (an ocean).
Put the kettle on; spill, make and drink a
glass of mud. Bowel creaks and groans,
there is a hog on the roof…
now above and emptied, dig out the day
to come from the old bog road.
Could have been a toad in another life.
Maybe a camel.
Bactrian of course. Yes, that’s it!
Plonked beside the sphinx waiting for a ride.
Better than Buddy on old Barry beach,
freezing in his duffel coat.
Fires behind windcheaters,
they eat ready-made drumsticks;
glower and growl when approached with a view to a sell.
Neddy gets a toffee apple and pukes on a sandcastle ruin.
Conway not, Kidwelly more likely.
Outside toilets on the fourth floor
always a hazard to the uninitiated
The galley is a mess: the Cook’s portholes,
open, abandoned, admit the squalid
Seaspray.
‘Keel haul that Boson, Master Bates, cocking a snook again!’
Karmic three times before the gloaming
Sixbell.
Cross word addiction seeks crucifiction.
Cryptic agnostic pursues persecution.
Here comes the window cleaner in a towel.
So, splice the main brace, Mr Hands, the wind howls
the sea is incandescent maroon green,
a kraken’s wake can be seen astern.
Just there beside the gherkins.
Looks like a job for the Kropotkins.
Idling around upstairs:
the crows nest on a dead
lead soft afternoon.
Was that our gate?
Is the back door locked?
Pscho-burglars,
Killer-flyers,
Mutant neighbours, midweek papers,
possibly a bloody postman!
hello…
hullo…
Helloohh…
stagnant pause (eleven years)…
sighs…(two short, one longer)
footfall on stair…
Shostokovich climaxes…
A throat clears…
Blue flush of toilet…
Phulushhh…
‘What was it?…’
‘When I picked it up it was dead…hisss
I mean dead happened just as I picked it up…
the other one was the paper boy…’
Deeep breathes…
so glad it was just a piddling matter.
Bedstretched a while;
thirst like a wadi;
it’s nice here though,
breeze shaded lush
green garden near
overgrown
overgreen
over right
shoulder
colder
clay hill side
Cruel and vicious age as ever was
longsuffering lifesufferer.
Do not bullshit one about the deprivations of the posh or chide me
I am unspeakable toothless with bite snap vengeful hard work
my reward three times twenty three this year shite up the snout
maculate deceivers line your nests and fill your boobies with
silica and choux pastry resentful me you betcha runs in the
breed like the wooden leg hip hop clip clop Iggy copped it
again last night a long drawn out affair mizzled puzzled dazzled
daddy sulks longest sulk in history of history and night
disturbing bassoon oboe stormtrooping quadruped
foodless as a mulligatawny owl a moustachioed pistachio
beckoned forward by a blindfold bogyman for mud is thicker
than water go the whole hog and take the plunge…
Siegfried came and went:
Sixty-Niner
Move faster,
Desiderata:
‘Go Bentley
without Plates…’
Grimbeau 