Attempts to engage
& inspire provide
Mere, cheap free
fatuous masonry
to bolster up
& elaborate her
Forty fictions;
So, off he traipsed,
hill sheep sullen
to wattle
& daub the beehive
against the elements;
Brittle bricks
& poor mortar
for fear’s shiftless,
feckless gaol:
Self.
I give up &
concern myselves
otherwise.
In confluence,
separation lies.
Put out the cat
& the candle,
Phisss!
Meorghh!
Ouch!
You little-shit, Chuckles!
Go on, treat yourself:
Have a wee one;
Pipe up fresh warm coffee;
Collect new fresh water
from the uphill stream;
Turn off lantern tap.
Time to turn on Turtle?
Go make Myrtle Purple?
No, not now Nigel…
Laters:
Squeaks in Frongs
Three-In-One:
Shed
Instead proceed
moving forward,
leaning, faking
baby bader steps,
to the garden gate…
Vicinity & Beyond!
A faux
Universe wilts
on the mantel.
Up propped by
Gormonghastly
Candelabra
Further west,
kinda seaward
Gawdyfauve
Naive postcard:
At last!
Salisbury
Greets the coast:
Crumbledown,
Tumbledown
Cinque City
By the sea.
Slurping milk stout
on a sensible,
suburban bench:
Asyl of sound
self-sacrifice.
If paradise is
half as nice:
tremolos
so sweet
‘More power to you elbow,
me old Mucker!
That’s just the ticket…
Sit down and make a stand!’
said Commissar
Commissionaire
pausing for chat,
‘ Where’s it at Comrade Cat?’
‘ Ain’t you heard, old fellow me lad
There’s one gone off
in Commercial St!’
Shorter
days means shorter lives.
Shorter
hours means shorter drives.
Ate and was
on my own
faraway
lackaday
blownaway
Comfy Love?
Big thing asks
me questions – why?
Windshine
Shush-hours
Perfection!
Quote…Unquote follows
So do I?
Yes, I am cold.
How did you guess?
So, to bed after
food and fumigation.
The heavens
piss stones.
An internet crashes.
I get up
A head of steam
radio
Sid crows, demi-dawn, cool night breeze folds,
falls from fan.
Remnants remain: crusted, polythene grass;
stale tobacco;
grand damned poems;
the truce is over, the murder is resumed.
Back to where it all began, square one squared,
one more dance, duplicated dalliance.
So the day is done. The same old same old
Step out hand in hand in
Vellum gloves
Freaks out,
Cauli’s out early
too,
much ado
about garden,
inside
Chopin mazurks
On a croissant
Something lurks above
A dove with a glove
A weasel with an easel
In the murk…
the whisper of the sea
around the balustrade
the whistle of the sea
cast me in this mystery?
this is the
start of history
a whisper of the sea,
around the balustrade.
Grimbeau 