Journal & diary:
conversational
Confessional:
Mindblurt!
pain & joy spot,
release and imprisonment,
devotion
and negligence,
memory
and reminder,
history
and bunk.
Mind to word to mind,
here and back again.
Lifeswork.
Chimneysweeps & luminaries.
Matters and matters not.
Ambivalence and catatonia,
worthlessness and worthiness,
stuff and nonsense,
I & I,
having a word,
saying things, finding wings,
more to do, more to do…
Cold! You fool, sure you are.
It’s the end of January:
Wintertimes…
I was just saying about
cycles of fears,
anxiety’s loops,
good old complexes.
Fairy rings: leaves a message.
Crisis, milkman! Dog bolts, Splash.
Dog breaks milk:
‘So very, very, very sorry… Are you OK’
‘Don’t worry…no use crying over it.’
Hahahahahahaha.
The dog has bolted.
Through the fence and near away.
Come and get in.
No!
And so it was below
to early evening telly
and braindeath,
the curtains are drawn,
the room ill lit
by an old standard lamp:
grey ochre and stale air.
Wild Arabia, Wild China, Wild West Wind…
Pain, Pus, and Poison.
Appetite lost.
Nearly out of smokes.
A bag of ready salted does.
I hang on watching people talking about art:
what’s on, what’s good, what’s what,
and lay down my sword
Til tomorrow
I could’ve slept all night
I
Cudave schleppt
All night…&
Stillav’schlept summore
I
Kudda did
Sumthings
Eye’ve
Nefferdun
Bevor….
I’ll never know wot made it so
Xcitin’
Wen allat wonce my art
Took flite
I
Ownly no that shee
Began two dance wivced
Me
I
Cuddadanssed
Darnstdarnsed
Allnite.
Subscribe: Free Calendar! A year in Sing-Sing.
Habeas corpus or what? Amnesty.
Ethical gift to salve the conscious conscience.
Place on cardboard coffee table to catch
the eyes of passers-by, nod frownfully
in silent solace, go wild ape and shout:
‘Owzat!’
Then, from red animate to grey plausible go
do your best sepulchral Arlott:
‘Calendar caught Eye bowled Jaffa.’
Napalm funburst sunset, oilslick bitter tears
Give way to pork smells, rumbaba, cockatoos
Squawk, rustles of last gasp, reeling tigers,
plangent oozing, floating, clades and phylums
make touching, silken, floating islands.
Seven brothers owned
seven separate farms:
while related,
they found themselves in quite
different fields
Gerunding…
Trembling: after shocked by writing this thing.
Abreacting plaything: underestimating the
Troubling power of saying your meaning.
Unnerving…
The mob has gone.
Bob is making
rolls with sausages in them.
A thirty four is shut: northward bound.
Wish I was a Phoenix.
Sometimes
11:46
Rain.
Poll & Nob been and gone.
Sloth sleeps so no shouts.
Me: wetsuit gloved, coffeed up, watched replays of yesterday and now:
what?
Dog just barked, commode getting wet by coalhole.
-Wannawork?
-Should really. Falling behind. Angsty.
Something about green gauze bugs me.
Cannot spell chrysanthemuns.
Can you? Smart, uh.
Now where was i.
Grimbeau 