she again, again
she is the chipped tooth,
the newly discovered species,
a broke lace
a bent spine
the pen mark on a new shirt
the unread paragraph,
the third floor and an unwanted fetish
a bingo full house
something lost in the snow
and washed away by the dew
Eatmorewords's Blog 
SEVEN TIMES WE CIRCLED JERUSALEM
I SAW THE CLOUDS OVER THE GARDEN OF EDEN
EVE WAS NEWLY VISIBLE
I COULDN’T STOP CRYING
SHE WAS NEW
NOT A COPY OF A COPY
SHE WAS FRESH
I COULD SMELL GOD ON HER
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ALBERTUS MAGNUS IS IN MICHAEL ONE MICHAEL TWO
HIS BLOOD, HIS MUD, NASTY BITES AT NIGHT
WORDS THAT RAINED FIRE AND BRIMSTONE
WORDS THAT SCORCHED THE EARTH
VIGOROUS PEASANT DANCE WITH RED
WHAT ISSUES FROM GUILTY HANDS ?
VAPORS THAT FALL BACK DOWN
A BLAZING PALETTE OF POVERTY
SOULS WITH NO KNIT TO THEIR FABRIC
FULL OF UNLIVED LIFE AND SACRIFICES
THE WEEPING SHRUBS HOLD THEM IN
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DREAMS ABOUT PEOPLE STANDING ON TOP OF THEIR CARS
READING ALOUD THE LIST OF PEOPLE TO DIE
HOW LITTLE MEANING CAN LIFE HAVE ?
IMMEDIATE SELFISH GRATIFICATION
BEDROOM THEATRICALS
EMBARRASSMENT
POLITE TO LIMITS
INACCESSIBLE LOVERS
UNEQUAL MIXTURES, FICTION AND FRICTION
POETRY WITH SUPERIMPOSED MEANINGS
LEAKING FALSE VERSIONS OF REALITY
SENTIMENTAL LANDSCAPES WITH ANGRY ANTS
INFLATED PARASITIC EMOTIONS ON PARADE
UPWARDLY AND DOWNWARDLY, GENITAL WARTS
POSSIBLY DARWINIAN ORGANISMS
STEP WHERE YOU MAY
THE WAYS OF THE LORD
CLUTTER THE PATH
EXPLORATION
EXPLOITATION
POLARITY
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always a disconnect between theory and practise –
we are all lapsed into praxis
diverged from the path
– I have borne children (but not physically) – I have invested time & fluid –
my path was changed
at the crossroads selling soup to the devil
She phoned me and implored me to keep it post modern and all I could think off was Normans mum sitting in a rocking chair on a veranda
sun setting
and a shotgun across her knees
Darwin had a thing for apes.
I’ve spent the weekend with black militants and an Italian crime family.
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a found note:
he decided to make a time machine to go back in time to tell himself how to build a time machine so he could go back in time to tell himself (and this is where the message ended)
———————————
I will take back what was stolen from me and soon there will be no one left alive who remembers the war –
–
the sun was too hot yesterday I felt I was melting as I turned colours knowing the sewer were just veins
–
in films the bomb is always stopped with 1 second to go
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FINGERING THE NARROWEST POINT WHERE EUROPE ALMOST TOUCHES AFRICA
CAUGHT IN THE WEB OF A LANGUAGE ADULT MEN SHY AWAY FROM
A MAN WHO REMAINED BEHIND WHEN OTHERS DEPARTED
TO CONQUER THE FATHER FACTOR, HUMAN VICES AND LIMITS
TO DROWN THE UNQUENCHABLE THIRST FOR KNOWLEDGE
AGAINST WHICH TO MEASURE MANLY GEOGRAPHY
TO INTERRUPT THE UNCHARTED ADVANCE
AMAZED AT THE FASHIONING OF ROMANCE
JERUSALEM, THREE TIMES IN ONE NIGHT
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flights of fancy away from this – as a kid
I thought Jerusalem was in the clouds
I know people who shy away from shadows and are scared of the night
and people in the shadows with wolverine teeth –
a life defined by barriers and masks
–
lines drawn but never crossed –
the geographical line of this island is one continuos Iine like the outline of a murder victim
chalk white
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YOUR NARRATIVE LINE IS VALID
LIKE SOME KIND OF OUTER SPACE PAINT
REFLECTED ON THE ROADWAY AT NIGHT
YOU SPEAK SO FREELY OF JERUSALEM
MADE POSSIBLE BY MEMORY AND LANGUAGE
PEOPLE ARE SPECIAL TREES
SO MUCH CAN BE SAID ABOUT THE ROOTS
STUDY THE ROOTS AND YOU WILL DISCOVER
EVEN GOD IS FLAWED, ENCLOSED AND A PRISONER
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THE BITTERSWEET SCIENCE OF APES AT THE DINNER TABLE
INTELLECTUALS AND PRACTICAL JOKERS
IN DIAPERS ONLY YESTERDAY
INTRICACIES OF POETRY
LAID BARE
CALLED A NOVELTY LIFE
WITH A DECK OF GIFTS
HAPPINESS PLAYS NO FAVORITES
WHEN ASKED
“STEPPING THROUGH FIRE”
NOT ON FILM OR TELEVISION
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A LOT OF WEIGHT FALLING FROM THE WORLD
CAUTION WITH EVERY WORD
POETRY AS PRODUCT
I STILL HAVE FIVE FINGERS
EACH ONE RULED BY POSSIBILITY
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I was nervous before she was within three days &
her smell raced ahead and I fell between the gap scratching elbows and knees through the darkness of tubes and I threw out hooks to catch the sides to slow the descent as I cascaded downwards –
I live day to day – (don’t we all) –
I have vague memories of being inside amongst fluid and echoes and sounds that I couldn’t grab or touch – it was red and warm and throbbed and
and it was an entrance
and an exit
days spend in Paris,
in the rain. Postcard stereotypes.
– – –
and I have photographs of UFOs over the moors
carcasses of animals and their bones
– – –
we all need time away
we all need time away
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THE TRUE INDIVIDUAL
NO SMALL ACHIEVEMENT
LIFE CAN NOT BE EXHAUSTED
VAPOROUS TRICKS THROUGH TIME HAVE FAILED
PUBLIC EDUCATION BEING THE TOBACCO SPIT
OF A DEMONIC NATURE
CARTOON INSTRUCTORS AND SLAPSTICK KNOWLEDGE
HUMOR WARMED OVER AS HISTORY
WHY DRAG THE PAST INTO THE PRESENT ?
DESTRUCTION IS ALWAYS FASTER THAN CONSTRUCTION
REPETITION AND JARGON—KING JAMES WITHOUT DINOSAURS
MEN AND WOMEN HAVE NO CAPACITY TO LEARN FROM THE PAST
SPONTANEOUS EXPRESSION OF EMOTIONS RULES THE MOMENT
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******SPONTANEOUS EXPRESSION IN DARKTOWN
BANG…BANG, YOU’RE DEAD SUCKER !!!
PEOPLE MISS THE SPITTOON AND OTHER PEOPLE STEP IN IT
SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE COMES FROM THE TRACKS
HUMANITY CAN BE STUDIED IN THE BROWN GOO
A REAFFIRMATION OF ALL THINGS RELIGIOUS
A LITTLE “THANK YOU” FOR ALL THE PIONEERS
WHO BROUGHT EUROPEAN VISIONS
TO OUR SAVAGE LAND
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she took a selfie of her and the moon – it’s alway been there for as long as she can recall – hanging invisible strings – a puppet with no strings – shoot the marionette –
all her achievements recorded in a book you’ll never see –
she is her
part of history at a time of harvest
people are good at heart
she knew where the anti-matter was we knew where the poems were stored
st james bare knuckles outside the bar with Gideon
automatic writing means I’m finished before I know I’ve started
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in dark town the shadows run long – sidewalk trash blown – again the flickering neon lights
again the piss gurgling in kerbs shot out from hobo meat
I haven’t returned to dark town since the INCIDENT
since the mask was removed
since we emerged from the tunnels –
every time I arrive anywhere by boat I think this is how the pilgrims must have arrived and I see black hats bobbing on waves and strike through 23 lines
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JUST LIKE FLYING ON THE BIG ROADS AT 90 mph
WE ARE NOT FULL MASTERS OF OUR BEHAVIOR
SOMETIMES OUR HEADS POP OFF
OUR LUNGS GO FLAT
NONHUMANS ARE EVERYWHERE
ANY UNDERSTANDING OF THIS CONDITION
IS QUESTIONABLE
GNATS OF SOCIETY
*here in Florida, we have bad-natured bugs
from New York and New Jersey
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POETS WHISPER ABOUT EMOTIONS RELATED TO THE MANAGEMENT OF DAILY PROBLEMS
A REMARKABLE APPARATUS INSIDE THEIR HEADS GIVES SUGGESTIONS
SOLUTIONS OFTEN REQUIRE COOPERATION, A TURN FOR THE WORSE
WIDER AND WIDER CIRCLES OF HATE OUTSIDE THE CAMPFIRE
TERRIBLE THINGS RESIDE IN THE OUTER SHADOWS
THE DRUMS BEAT LOUD—WARNING OF HARM
OUR TRIBE OFFERS ONLY SUFFERING
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A GOOD LOVER IS ONE WHO CAN READ BACKGROUND EMOTIONS
ONE WHO CAN DETECT THE MUSIC IN THE VOICE
LIFE NOT MEASURED IN INCHES
OR HOURS OR DAYS
*flying off the handle is a bad sign
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VAGABONDING POETRY COMES IN PILL FORM
LENGTH STRETCHED WITH HEALTHY FLESH COLORS
VERY LITTLE SQUANDERING OF LOVE
EVERYTHING BECOMES PARTICULARLY ARTISTIC
RECIPROCATE OR RETURN TO THE SHADOWS
PASSAGES FROM BOOKS FLOATING BY
WORDS THAT BUZZ LIKE MOSQUITOES
UNINVITED THOUGHTS THAT PLAY HAVOC
FIDDLING FINGERS ON ANOTHER POLE
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—above sleeping people in silent houses with electrical things turned off
or on stand by
—where cars stood still
and cats had the run of the streets
—amongst shadows cast from street lights
in the dark sky,
they had noticed a change in her since the sightings – she tasted metallic – blemishes appeared on once pristine skin – obvious, like a bear shit on a snowy white tundra –
she heard buzzing constantly – tinnitus and electric thrum – she tried to explain it but could only draw Geiger counter peaks –
the big roads were empty as the billboards – Burma shave – burgers stretched till they pierced tomorrow
10million pounds of sludge
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OUT PAST THE POINT OF NO RETURN—A SWINGING DOOR IN A COWBOY TAVERN
THE FINAL GRIEVOUS STEP—CHIMPANZEES MASTERING FLARF
FACING PSYCHOLOGICAL HARM—FERMENTING CABBAGE UNDER PILLOW
UNKNOWN PEOPLE— SCRATCHING ELBOWS AND KNEES
UNMAPPED REGIONS WITHOUT POSTCARDS
EXPECTATIONS ARE DASHED
IRREGULAR PATTERNS IN THOUGHT AND ACTION
MEXICAN POETRY ON THE STREETS—GROUND SCIENCE POPPY
RAW VS COOKED POETRY—FEELINGS OF COMMON LIFE
CONTAGIOUS WITHOUT GROTESQUE PROOF
FALSE CALCULATIONS—MISSING FINGERS
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FALSE CALCULATIONS OF A SAXOPHONIST MISSING FINGERS
HAIR COLOR MEANS NOTHING
GOD ONLY KNOWS HAIR COLOR
MEANS NEXT TO NOTHING
GEOMETRICAL NOTES
ECHOING AND NEAR ECHOING
INTRICATE RICHES, OFTEN PURE GOLD
AT TIMES HIGH HANDED
BUT ALWAYS IN THE MIDDLE
OF NOW
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JAZZ NOTES FELL OUT OF YOUR EAR
THE MAGAZINE REQUESTED PHOTOGRAPHS
DID YOU SEND THEM CLOSE-UPS
OF THE PHONOGRAPH
OR THE RADIO ?
YOU WERE WHISPERING TO YOURSELF
YOU WERE WHISPERING INSIDE YOURSELF
NOT ONCE DID YOU THANK ME
AND I CARRIED YOU THROUGH
IT WAS I WHO DUG YOU UP
FROM THE BURYING GROUND
YOU WERE BLUE-BABY COLD
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WHILE OTHER POETS WERE SLEEPING IN CONSTRICTING AND DEBILITATING FACTORS
JOHNNY BOY WAS SPEEDING AROUND THE SLOWER CONVENTIONS
BENDING CREATIVITY, PROVIDING AN ALTERNATIVE TO THE EXPECTED
WORDPRESS WITH ITS ENDLESS JARGON THAT DECEITFULLY STANDS IN FOR POETRY
AN AMERICAN ASSEMBLY LINE OF WORD FOLLOWING WORD FOLLOWING WORD
PILES OF POOP ON THE SNOWY WHITE TUNDRA, WATCH YOUR STEP
INTELLECTUALS HAVE SPIT BUT MISSED THE SPITTOON
FAMILIAR HUMANITY WITH FAMILIAR STAINS
THE WHYS AND WHEREFORES OF LIFE
*Abraham Lincoln impotent
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the fingerless saxophonist played one note – long and sharp – fingers lost many moons ago to the circus knife thrower – arms cut like a chopping board – hair colour clues send the detectives off down a cul de sac of misdirection – what’s hidden up their sleeves?
these retired magicians?
the maths of jazz
the notes flutter off the page
black butterflies & blue bulls
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FORBIDDEN TO LIVE THERE—FANCY THAT AS YOU LOCK THE DOOR
24 CHAIRS AND YOUNGER FOLKS NEVER SAT IN THEM ONCE
THE CONSTANT DISTRACTION OF DAYDREAMS
NO LANGUAGE FOR REAL EXPRESSION
JUST SMILES AND DETERMINED ENERGY
GONNA WAVE A PIRATE FLAG
THROW SOME ROCKS
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IT WAS I WHO DUG YOU UP
FROM THE BURYING GROUND
YOU WERE BLUE-BABY COLD
LACKING ALL ESSENTIAL
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FORCED TO STAND AROUND OTHER PEOPLE’S VIEWS
BUSY PLEDGING TO THE FLAG
AND PRAYING TO THE HOLY FATHER
THE IDOL HAS BEEN MELTED DOWN
I PUT SOME IN THE ICE TEA
SOON YOU WILL SEE
WE ARE ON FIRE
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NAKED WITHOUT TEETH I DUG YOU UP
IN FRONTAL PLAYFULNESS
JUST TRYING TO GIVE IT AWAY
A NEW VITALITY
THAT CANNOT BE STIFLED OR CRAMPED
OR LABELED UGLY OR DEFORMED
*Yoko said that we should sell you on ebay
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OUTDOORS, WORDS FAIL THEIR BROODING SENSE OF MYSTERY
THE IDOL HAS BEEN MELTED DOWN, MECHANICAL COLORS
RECOGNIZED BY ITS TASTE, THE TEA SEEMS JAPANESE
I AM NOT A RIVER OR A CLOUD—I AM AN IMITATION
LESS SERIOUS THAN THE OTHERS, LESS ORIGINAL
REALITY IS PSEUDOPHOTOGRAPHIC
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essential what I was lacking was direction –
direction and an unshakable belief system,
I had walked through fields of abandoned cars,
rummaged through church sales and touched the clothes of the dead –
I felt hemmed in
like I was stuck in a coffins
or swallowed by a whale
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I hold no allegiance to any flag – three colours flapping in the wind
– 67% of flags contain three colours (made up fact #5 for today) –
nonsense
in France they burn their flag at the beginning of each school day – burnt from the end of a French cigarettes / they stand round
shoulders shrugging
equations spinning in their heads
ice tea isn’t tea
the first time I drank it I spat it out
cursed God and cleaned my tongue with medicinal alcohol
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my life was caught on CCTV –
dark and flickery images –
date stamped at the bottom –
– all actions are silent
– let the viewer guess the narrative
– Charlie Chaplin waddle
– Harold Lloyd hi-jinks
– still got boxes pilled up against the wall – boxes of words – thumbed chapters –
the UFO wont follow me here
different landing sites
singed grass and the cow carcasses where the flys buzz
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—BY THE TIME YOU READ THESE WORDS I MAY BE GONE—
ONLY POETS TAKE NOTICE OF THE INCESSANT PROMPTINGS
CIRCLES OF VOICES AND ATTENDANT FEELINGS
NO CARNIVAL TICKETS
THAT WAS NOT YOUR LIFE CAUGHT ON CCTV
BOLD STROKES AND HIGH SHINE SHOES
PARTICLES THAT SEEM TO COHERE
PERCEPTIONS THAT DENY ANY VOLUME
MONOLOGUES IN SILENCE
WE ARE ONLY SQUATTING ON THE GROUND
PRAY THEY DO NOT RECLAIM US
WEASEL OUR SOULS
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POETS IN THE ELEVATOR WERE FAMOUS—SLOW MOTION FAMOUS
CORSO AND FERLINGHETTI WERE STICKY WITH TRUISMS
THEY WERE COLOR QUILTED IN A GRAY WORLD
UNMENTIONABLE THINGS HAPPENED
NOT REFLECTIVE OF YOUR LIFE
MANY DOUBTS ABOUT YOUR LIFE ON CCTV
SILENT DIALOGUE IN THE SCRIPT
GEOGRAPHY CONFUSED WITH PORNOGRAPHY
HOMOSEXUAL SHARKS AND SUBPLOTS
SODOMY WITH GUSTO
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BROWN CRUST—AMATEURISH SODOMY, POSSIBLY SUPERFICIAL
EXISTENTIAL ANGUISH WITH DETECTIVES SNAPPING THEIR FINGERS
THEY REPORT THAT YOUR LIFE IS A SHOWCASE OF THEATRICAL ANTIQUITIES
SECOND CHILDHOOD BUTTONHOLED BUT NOT ON CCTV
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subplots of a life that’s lived in the shadows – below the watermark – under the covers
the hard drinking poet myth
thinking in stanzas
beat up liver and stories to tell of
subplots that run tangential from the narrative – (life in brackets with no punctuation) – life behind the curtains
honeymoon blues
the poets that go up in the lift
also go down the hole
set your words to stun
an office full of haircuts that kill – sodomy once tried
Never forgotten
CCTV footage shared on line
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SPEAKING LOUDER THAN A THOUSAND WORDS
EACH BLADE OF GRASS IS MANICURED
THE LEAVES ON TREES COUNTED
WEALTH IS THE CRITERIA
SPEAKING LOUDER THAN A THOUSAND WORDS
OUTSIDE THE WINDOW
EITHER SIDE OF THE SIDEWALK
I HAVE HIRED A NEW CINEMATOGRAPHER
—————————————————————
______________________________________
MUTUAL ATTRACTION TO MATHEMATICIANS
PLOTTING AND WRITING AS IF FLATFOOTED
IN A HIGH-HEEL WORLD
SURROUNDED BY VISUAL EXPRESSION
FAMOUS POETS FRESH FROM THE DAMNATION
CHURCH PEOPLE FRIGHTENED
OUTSIDE NORMAL LIMITS
SOAKED WHITE SHIRTS
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COAXING BULBOUS NOTES INTO A PARENTAL TROMBONE
SIMMERING AND STEAMING—STRONGLY SEASONED
NUMBERS STANDING PROUD IN ABSOLUTE STILLNESS
THAT CHILDHOOD ATTRACTION FOR MATHEMATICANS
UNRUFFLED CONFIDENCE IN COMMAND OF DETAIL
I HIRED A NEW CINEMATOGRAPHER
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NOTES FROM A TROMBONE LIKE FABLES OF AESOP
I THINK THE SAXOPHONE PLAYER IS ON CRUTCHES
A TONAL PERCUSSIONIST IS IN DEMAND
YOU SAY YOUR LIFE IS ON CCTV
INTRICATE RICHES AND TERRORS
A SERIES OF GEOMETRICAL CALLS
I’VE TRIED TO FIND MYSELF
IN SKIN TONES AND HAIR COLORS
WORDS WHISPERING EXCEPTIONAL FRIENDLINESS
WORDS THAT NO LONGER LEAN ON WINDOW SILLS
OR WORK THE SIDE STREETS
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I DRINK MINERAL WATER WITH JAPANESE TOURISTS
THEY LIKE TO TOUCH MY HOME-MADE SHOES
CONSTANTLY CALLING ME MUHAMMAD ALI
WHISPERS INSIDE THEIR SHELLS
GRAMMATICAL MISTAKES
BLACKENING ENGLISH
BLACKENING BRUISES
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IN THE MINDS OF ROMANTIC PRIMITIVISTS
JAPANESE TOURISTS
SPEAKING LOUDER THAN A THOUSAND WORDS
WORDS DRESSED IN CHEAP PANTSUITS
BLUE-BLACK ENGLISH
BRUISED EMOTIONS
IMPROVISORS
REDUCING AESTHETIC ELEMENTS
DOWN TO SOLOS
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SELF-VIOLATION WAS COMMON PRACTICE
JUNGLE-MOVIE STYLE
JAPANESE TOURISTS ALWAYS ASK FOR OCTOPUS
MURKY FLUID FROM THEIR LOINS
BLACK JISM—RAW VOCABULARY
DRAG QUEENS AND VULGARIANS ON CCTV
CROSS-WEAVING REAL AND FAKE POETRY
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off the grid with no connection – the modern world was left behind when the 7,000 boxes were packed &
taped shut
stored in damp conditions
– the words left exposed
in the elements –
left in a garage with the skeletons and lawnmowers
I feel like an undercover agent with
new identity and a car that kills
I received a secret message yesterday that i couldn’t decipher but I knew it was telling me to parachute across battle lines –
to enter enemy territory
– to photograph a silo
– poison a Japanese diplomat
– seduce a Russian
-find the microfiche
I receive messages all the time
messages and postcards
when the connection is re-established I will be inundated with offers to buy pills to widen my girth and opportunities to invest all my savings (there are none) with a mysterious man from the African continent
I feel younger then I am
I look older then I am
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AGENTS ARE ALL BOOZED UP ON CELESTIAL LIQUOR
TAKES A SPECIAL GLASS TO CONTAIN THE STUFF
————————————————————————-
AMERICA TRIES VERY HARD NOT TO EDUCATE THEIR YOUTH
INTELLIGENT PEOPLE POOP ON THE OLD TESTAMENT
THEY TRADE VENGEANCE FOR VIRTUE
WHAT GOOD IS THAT ?
————————————————————————-
HISTORY IS THE WAXEN WINGS OF ICARUS
————————————————————————-
I HEARD YOUR WORDS CRYING IN THE GARAGE
THE POEM NEARLY DROWNED AND NOT THE POET
MANY TAKE NOTICE OF YOUR SERVITUDE
HALF-MAN, HALF-BEAST, OFTEN OUTSIDE THE MAZE
WHEN I WAS YOUNG I SAW A FILM OF YOUR MOTHER
INSIDE THE WOODEN COW PRIOR TO MOUNT
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the bubble wrap
the chewing gum lip smack
the dry heave
and the spinning vertigo
felt in wide open spaces
she will abdicate and sell the throne –
the time when she laughed, misheard tapas for “tap arse”
–
a mysterious cabal of bald headed men, faceless and sweaty, lurking,
a crowd carry placards denouncing thinks, stop this
free that
consensus of one
here comes the takedown
crosshairs
in on the killtaker
Multiple Micheals pivotal moments captured in clay
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EVEN IN THE DARKNESS ONE COULD FEEL THE HEAT OF THE MADNESS
ONSTAGE AND OFFSTAGE EVERYONE BELONGED TO THE AUDIENCE
YOUR NEXT POEM MAY PROVIDE THE DESIRED END, THE FINALE
JELLY FROM HUMAN PAIN RUBBED ON YOUR TORSO ERECT
MY PIVOTAL MOMENTS MAY BE IN CLAY
HOMECOMINGS OF A SORT
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THE CROSSHAIRS OF MADAME CURIE
I REPENT NO MISDEEDS
DRENCHED
IN GUILT
YOU
DOG
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it took 24chairs perched on each other to reach the parapet –
the view was a city bathed in the flashing lights of flash bulb tourists – monorails criss crossed sidewalks and pavements –
epileptics have been ushered away from the tourists –
seizure potential 78%+…rolling eyes, foaming
tongue swollen &
cold extremities
——–
**the albino jazz band hide behind dark glasses
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HOMELAND SECURITY HAS ASKED ME TO TURN OVER YOUR MANUSCRIPTS
THE MENTION OF 24 CHAIRS WITHOUT THE MENTION OF A HEROINE
(THE LACK OF FEMININITY MAKES THEM NERVOUS)
TOO MANY TIMES LIKE MOT
THEY HAVE BEEN HARVESTED
CUT WITH A SICKLE
BEAT WITH A FLAIL
GROUND IN A MILL
ALL UNDER CLOSE SUPERVISION
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
PRAYERS FOR THE CONTINUATION OF YOUR CREATIVITY
SO MANY COMMONPLACE NOTIONS ABOUT WOMEN AND POETS
VISIONS OF THE DEVOURING WOMB
A FEMALE EXACTING THE GIFT
*in the dark I could see burning coals inside her
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THE RECEDING COAST OF AFRICA MAY BE CLOSER TO YOUR BRAIN
THAN YOU THINK
AFRICA LINGERS
I CAN SMELL HER BUTT, HER RECTAL THROES
YOU LAUGH
BUT SMALL CHILDREN WEEP AT THE ZOO
CONSTANT DEATH
THE HUNGRY UNDERWORLD
VIRGINS IN BEDROOMS WITH NO ESCAPE
EMILY DICKINSON WITH NO WINDOWS OR DOORS
SMALL DEAD ANIMALS IN HER UNDERWEAR
SHE HAS THE MOUTH THAT SWALLOWS MEN
MALEFOLK WITH LIMITATIONS
MALEFOLK THAT DESIRE TO WRITE
INFANTILIZED TO THE POINT OF 24 CHAIRS TALL
MY GOD, TAKE A PHOTOGRAPH
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automatic spewing in a world of boxes
“cut with a sickle” – an illusion to your communist ancestry –
membership of the party
– they will be watching you for unAmerican behaviours –
phone line taps
your life is a TV show
– hide your words –
the meanings will be mis-read –
interpreted twisted under close supervision
homeland security laugh at flarf – it’s watered down – it’s lost it strength
are you nervous when you write?
do you lock your doors and close your curtains first?
let the correspondence continue
–
dead children covered in ash –
– dead people of American streets –
she was born in a curfew at a time of rations – two words a day and a slice of bread – fake meat made in factories –
lights out at sunset –
my conscience reminds me that humans are the only species that can kill at a distance
fuck our opposable thumbs
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HOMELAND SECURITY DOES NOT TAKE FLARF LIGHTLY
THERE ARE WAREHOUSES FULL OF IT IN MARYLAND
SOMEDAY THE CODE WILL BE BROKEN
ALL POETIC SECRETS WILL BE VISIBLE
EVERYONE WILL KNOW THAT YOU
WERE A SENSITIVE AND IMAGINATIVE CHILD
RAISED IN A ZOO-LIKE PRISON
YOUR FATHER WAS THE COMMANDANT
HE CHOSE THE ANIMAL FOR THE MEAL
HE USED YOUR BROTHER
AFRICA LINGERS ON A MAP
AFRICA IS MISSING IN YOUR BROTHER
*everyone in denial about his custodial care
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MANIC-DEPRESSIVE DRIBBLE
THAT’S WHAT I AM LEAKING
THE HIDDEN WORLD
DARK DAYS IN FEBRUARY
IN YOUR UNDERWEAR (#34)
IN THE UNDERWORLD
FORCES RESIDE IN YOUR FOREHEAD
THEY HOLD THE CRUCIAL KEYS
WADS OF MISSING LETTERS
STOLEN MAIL
TOUCHED WITH PEANUT BUTTER
THIEF FINGERS BROWN
FATALLY FLAWED FLARF
RELATIONSHIPS WITH READERS
ASPIRING LITERARY ARTISTS
SIMULTANEOUSLY
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GREAT RESOURCES IN THE DEAD BODIES
PEOPLE DISCARD THE BODIES
INSATIABLE HUNGER DRIVES WOMEN TO LOCATE THESE BODIES
TORTURED FACIAL EXPRESSIONS
IMAGINARY DIALOGUES
MEALS AT HOLIDAY
FOOD MOLESTATION
FAMILY GROUPS PAW AND BITE
SERIOUS AS A HEART ATTACK
I SPEAK THE TRUTH
SO HELP ME
*please
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FORCED INTO COPING WITH THE CONSEQUENCES OF AN ADOLESCENT POETRY MACHINE
VULNERABLE INFANTILE FLARF WITHOUT HAIR OR RIGIDITY, LEGAL AGE VERIFIED
UFO EXTREMISTS—PETS WITH BRAIN EMBOLISMS
INCREASING PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSAULT
PROPHETIC PAIN PILLS, PERVERSE AND GROTESQUE
SELFISH URGES IN NEED OF A CATASTROPHE
HOW MUCH WOULD YOU PAY FOR AN INTIMATE ENCOUNTER WITH EVIL ?
OLD TESTAMENT JEHOVAH AND THE BACKSTREET BOYS
*awake and self-directed—dualized adulthood with calendars and mystery meat
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MAKING A COMMENT ON LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY
WERE YOU TESTING THE LIMITATIONS OF EGOTISM ?
FLASHLIGHTS LATE AT NIGHT—INEVITABLE CONSEQUENCE
A GIANT “I’M SO SORRY” CARD
A MEANS OF MARKING ONE’S IDENTITY
SOCIAL AND SEXUAL IDENTITY
ARE CITIES SOUTH OF LOUISVILLE
MOTHER KENTUCKY—THE HOLE OF ATTRACTION AND REPULSION
MENSTRUAL WASTE AS BROTHER AND SISTER
ANONYMOUS FACES, UPPER BROTHER, LOWER SISTER
JERKED ABOUT LIKE PUPPETS —BASEMENT BABIES
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JOHNNY CASH WAS NOMINALLY CULTURED
NEVER A MEMBER OF THE SCIENTIFIC NOBILITY
A PASTORAL FIGURE WITHOUT PUSH PINS
ANY OLD GUITAR AND A BACKPOCKET RAG
LINKING LOVE WITH DEATH AND OFTEN
A CEMETERY PLOT OUTSIDE THE PRISON
FREE OF SCAMPER AND SCRAMBLE
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reversal of fortunes for the man in black – if you liked Johnny Cash in the 70s or 80s you were branded a rascist
Redneck NASCAR –
good morning sports fans
Homer Simpson’s spirit animal –
a talking coyote –
a turning pointing under the spotlight of revisionism –
outside the walls of the penitentiary
where inside, they take a break from sodomy to listen to his words, you try to dig your way in
full circle like dark the skin around a nipple
even flarf will have its moment
everything will float over the watermark, just for second
stay in the undertow poetman
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PEOPLE COMPLAINED ABOUT THE DEAD BODY
THAT LITTERED THE SHORE
JOHNNY CASH TOLD ME THAT WHEN HE WAS YOUNG
HE MADE LOVE TO A WOMAN MOMENTS AFTER SHE DROWN
TRUE OR NOT, IT MADE A TITILLATING THOUGHT
THAT I’VE REHASHED MANY TIMES
HE SAID THAT WHEN HE PUMPED REALLY HARD
WATER LEAKED FROM HER LIPS
HER MOUTH SMILED REGARDLESS
THAT SHE COULD NEVER REGAIN HER BREATH
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Johnny on the shore, waiting for whatever the backwash throws up on the beach
a rusty can
detritus of plastic
bloated body of tourist who fell from a luxury cruises
a bottle containing a message written buy a prisoner on an island where the men are kept as sex slaves by a race of super sexed femme fatales – the message read “tired and sore, need sleep, tell my children I love them” –
innocent like in the first days,
now just meat waiting for the vultures – plucked like a Boxing Day turkey, now
just carcass and loose meat, hanging like a condemned man,
simple curiosity based on what you can’t describe
do words fail you sometimes, or is it a lack of imagination?
engine-less cars in Kentucky, the caves waiting on light to expose their darkness
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rumours circulate around the coffee machine:
the lady in accountants nickname is “51st date” due to the number of first dates she’s had
they never progress to date number two,
she blames them
– the man over there, dresses his cats up in military clothing, tunics and helmets
– one of the directors has a star named after him
– the lady in the canteen carried a knife in her dreadlocks
dead peoples ashes in coffee flasks
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ENDLESS TIMES I WALKED AROUND THE ORIGIN OF SELF
I TOOK PHOTOGRAPHS AND MADE MEASUREMENTS
I TRIED TO POLISH AWAY THE INCESTUOUS SCARS
FROM MOTHER RUBBED WITH BACON FAT
A LANGUAGELESS FILM
MARKED WITH SEXUAL IDENTITY
A PRIMARY MARKER IN A COURT OF DIFFERENCES
MY SISTER CONSTANTLY CONSOLED LIMBLESS DATES
SHE ESPECIALLY LOVED MEN
WHO COULDN’T TOUCH
THEIR OWN PHALLUS
SHE DATED STEPHEN KING ONCE
BUT HE WAS NO FUN
TOO MANY BABBLES
NOT ENOUGH JUNK
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COUNTRY MUSIC DETACHED AND AUTONOMOUS
AMATEURISH HAND-GLANDS IN FUNNY CLOTHES
WASP NEST PUBIC BONES—INHUMAN BUT HUMAN
EDUCATED MORAL DILEMMAS, MURDER FOR MEAT
GOLDILOCK KILLS THE BABY PIGS TO GRILL
ENJOYING THE CORRUPTION OF HER LIBRARY
THAT EVER-TIGHTENING CIRCLE—HER GIFT
SWEET ORPHANAGE OF SOILED MEMORIES
*quick peek under the TURIN SHROUD
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, measurements can always be wrong – measure twice
cut once
my father was a carpenter – early evening smell of wood chips & shavings,
he was a carpenter called Joseph –
the Gideons kept tabs
in languageless films its the movements that have meaning,
a look to the horizon, right foot scratching
back of left heel,
right finger brushes the phallus
and cars screech past
a primary marker, a line is drawn near the landing site
walk around myself twice – explored the interior and we are all just tubes
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southern gothic country death songs
– whiskey soaked
tuberculosis
black cancerous ten gallon pants – phallus holsters of the high plains drifter –
Johnny Cash the man in black drained white
translucent and at the edge of the frontier
lawless town
blue bull stampede
goldilocks,
pubic scalps
mesmerised,
the endless horizon & the mountain over there
she worked her way across the prairie without a care
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I GAVE HER $500 AND ASKED IF SHE COULD JUST BE A LITTLE MORE DIRTIER
IT IS NOT THAT I AM SO MUCH SELFISH—JUST GETTING OLDER
THE IMPORTANT SHIPS HAVE SAILED—I PLAYED HOOKIE
MONEY MAKES MANIPULATION SO MUCH EASIER
I GO TO DARK TOWN AND PAY GARBAGE GIRLS
TO ACCESS THEIR ADOLESCENT PASSIONS
BACK WHEN THEIR DISCHARGES WERE CLEAR
WHEN THEIR NERVES WERE FRESH
YOU COULD SMELL THE ORPHANAGE
ON THEIR COTTON BRAS
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A PROTAGONIST WALKING AROUND HIMSELF
WITH HEAVY EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE
———-SORRY TO INFORM YOU:
YOUR REAL FATHER WAS NOT A CARPENTER
HE WAS ALSO NEVER A STAR
IN A LANGUAGELESS FILM
CONFRONTING THE BOTTLE
THE BATTLE WITH THE BOOZE
SOFT STOOLS AND ALL
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JUST HOW POETIC IS THE SMELL OF AN ORPHANAGE
ON A COTTON BRA (MADE FROM A MATTRESS PAD) ?
PERPETUALLY ADOLESCENT FOR WADS OF MONEY
ADULTS WITH THEIR TENDENCY TO MAKE DIRTY
INTENSIFIED EVIL AROUND A BRIGHT BURNING
FLAME
PAINFUL MEMORIES, LATE-REMEMBERED
THE SOUNDS OF BABY AND MOTHER
YOU WERE CRADLING YOURSELF
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JUST HOW POETIC IS THE SMELL OF AN ORPHANAGE
ON A COTTON BRA (MADE FROM A MATTRESS PAD) ?
ENVELOPED IN EVIL IMPULSES—THEMES CONCERNING YOUTH
STEREOTYPE YOUTH, TROUBLESOME ADULT YOUTH
CONSTANT MISTAKES ON THE PATH OF LOVE
INEXPERIENCED INDIVIDUALS
WITH WARM LIPS
STRENUOUS
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orphanages never get good press, always tales of drudgery
and cruelty
but man, can those orphans SING –
inexplicable dalliances in someone
else’s bed
no one really recovers from inexperienced first times
no one really recovers from the honeymoon let down
my father was a carpenter
he had the scares on his hands
the splinters in his soul
he made a dolls house and sold it to Normans mum who burnt it down
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UNREGISTERED FIREARMS ON THE HONEYMOON
ROMANCE WAS AN “AL GREEN” INFLUENCED THING
VOCALS WITH RIPE FRUIT, STREAM-OF-CONSCIOUSNESS
THE WIFE (AND HER SISTER) WEARING A NEW WHITE BRA
BLACK AND WHITE FROM A HITCHCOCK FILM, “PSYCHO”
SMELLS FROM THE ORPHANGE WERE MISSING
CHINESE LAUNDRY BLEACH—DIRECTIONLESS
NO GET-UP-AND-GO TESTOSTERONE
IN THE GUISE OF BEING MADE FROM A MATTRESS PAD
SADLY LACKING THE “NOOKIE” FEEL FROM THE PAST
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ALL SPECTRES OF THE HUMAN CONDITION
——ON THE HONEYMOON——-
LESSER WRITERS OF POETRY TURN OFF THE LIGHTS
CRITICAL INTERPRETATIONS IN THE DARK
TWO VOICES, STRUGGLES WITH LOVE AND PAIN
ENERGETICALLY RUBBING QUESTIONS
BACKDOOR HONEYMOON LANGUAGE
GIVING VOICE TO WORDS TORN ?
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A DIP INTO THE MURKY WATERS OF THE TORN WORDS
EMILY DICKINSON FOUND THE THOUGHT
OF TORN WORDS VERY DISARMING
SHE REFUSED TO WRITE THE WORD “HONEYMOON”
THE OFFICIAL AND THE UNOFFICIAL OPENING
WAS TOO NARROW
WHY THE LORD GOD WAS SO CRUEL ?
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WHEN HONEYMOON LANGUAGES INTERACT
THEY BECOME DEFORMED
LIKE THE BROWN CURRY GIRL
IN THE WHEELCHAIR
UTILIZED BUT NEVER MARRIED
THE PARODIED IN A PARODY
TORN WORDS IN HER DICTIONARY
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fumbling like a sea monster under the sheets – empty gun and the wordless pen –
( in the film of my life
the camera will show her postcards
held to the wall by the pins)
a room full of typewriting monkeys: true definition of flarf
hairy fingers slapping keys
rain falls heavy
like anvils dropping from empty skies
when she speaks I don’t hear the sounds, I picture the words
floating in cartoon sound bubbles
I don’t recall her being pregnant
i just remember the child being there,
like it always had been there and I had only just noticed
dark milky nights
of guttural screams
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TORN WORDS-TORN WORDS- TORN WORDS
DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE DANCE
———————-AROUND——————————
DARK MILKY NIGHTS OF GUTTURAL SCREAMS
to accuse and condemn, love being the crime
trying to demystify the baby
how did it get there ?
when did it arrive ?
the language of two people
the reader and the writer holding hands
no more slang
the official language will be the baby
only mother can speak
holding the baby
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HUSH AND LISTEN TO THE MOTHER, SHE IS HOLDING THE BABY
IS IT A BIBLICAL BABY ? A BULB DIRECT FROM GOD OUR FATHER ?
I AM WATCHING THE FILM OF YOUR LIFE, THE POSTCARDS AND ALL
YOU WANT TO MENTION THE HELLO KITTY PUSH PINS
BUT YOU ARE TOO MUCH A MAN
IT COULD MAKE YOUR BROTHER ONE INCH TALLER
IT COULD MAKE YOUR BROTHER ONE INCH LONGER
LOTS OF STUFFED MEMORIES
TAINTED MEMORIES
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torn words used as confetti at the shotguns wedding
torn words used at the ticker tape parade for the first man to capture images of the mysterious observer
words shredded at the exit feed through razors
during pregnancy, a strange fixation with inanimate objects
a strange cravings for low hanging fruit
your fathers shadow stretches long into your afternoons, across pool table lawns
I’ve seen the pictures of you being cradled as a jet plane heads to Phoenix,
the things we choose to forget are never fully forgotten –
your four inch brother walks through the gaps in the narrative
———————————–
I posted extracts of this in the classifieds – a stanza a week
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PLEASE DO NOT MEASURE MY FAMILY MEMBERS
THIS MAKES THEM NERVOUS
THEY FEAR THE GOVERNMENT
AND THE NUMBER OF DETECTIVES INCREASES
THEY LIVE IN A WORLD OF PASTEBOARD
AND PLASTER ORGANS
ALL THINGS CONSPIRE
GRAVITY, STRESS, THRUST
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WHEN YOU MENTIONED MY FOUR INCH BROTHER
I KNEW YOU WERE AN OLD-STYLE BELIEVER
A POET WHO STEALS SUGAR
AND REPLACES IT WITH SAND
I KNOW YOU CANNOT SLEEP WITH THE HEARTACHE
BUT PLEASE CALL OFF THE DETECTIVES
THE ALLEY IS CROWDED ENOUGH
I HAVE BEEN SO HAPPY HERE AT THE COTTAGE
WITH THE WASP AND THE BEES
AND THE IV DRIP
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UNREGISTERED FIREARMS ON THE HONEYMOON
BIOLOGICAL NEEDS IN BULLET FORM
INJURY AFTER INJURY
PRIMARY—PRIMAL FASCINATION
JOHNNY BOY TRAJECTORY
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PRODUCING A HUMOROUSLY BOTCHED SPOT ON THE INTERCOURSE TOWEL
DREAMING OF EXPERIMENTING—POSSIBLY USING AN EXIT
SLOWLY DEVELOPING SKILLS ON INSERTION WITHOUT NOTICE
GOD ONLY KNOWS ABOUT THE FORCE FIELD THAT GUARDS IT
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—————–THERE WILL BE GREAT SUFFERING
—–IF THE CRAYON BREAKS————————–
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—— scared of your shadow
because its not yours
it’s a man behind you
with an axe
standing between the sun
and you ——
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SLEEPING ON A STACK OF PSYCHOLOGICAL TESTS
MENTAL ILLNESS A UFO ABDUCTION
DARK SIDES TO EVERYTHING
EVANGELICALISM YELLOW IN THE COMMODE
CONVICTIONS OF THE WIFE
PERSONAL BARBED WIRE
UNEXPLAINED
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RUNNING WATER LIKE A CREEK
YOU CAN CRAWL WAY UP THERE
—ARE YOU REALLY THE JOHNNY BOY
YOUR FRIENDS TALK ABOUT ?
WEIRD, REBELLIOUS, ODDLY LACED
I HAVE POINTED OUT THE DETECTIVES
THE LEVIATHAN LOTTERY BURNED DOWN
THE TICKETS ARE GHOSTS
THE COLOR GONE FROM THE PAPER MONEY
ATTENDANCE IS DOWN
TALK OF CLERICAL DIVORCE
MY CEMETERY IS DARK
24 HOUR DARK
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I WANTED TO HOLD YOUR HAND
AS YOU FACED
YOUR LIFE
CHALKED ON THE BLACKBOARD
YOUR DAYS CAPTURED
IN AN ADULT NOVEL
A PERCEPTIVE POET
A PROFESSIONAL ACTOR
ON AND OFF THE STAGE
COURAGE TO WRITE
WITH THE SLOW
WATCH OF DETECTIVES
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I WANTED TO HOLD YOUR HAND
AS YOU TOOK YOUR VOWS
POVERTY
CHASITY
OBEDIENCE
I WANTED TO SHARE
AN INTELLECTUAL SMILE
A FACIAL SWIPE—ALMOST BIBLICAL
I LIVE IN 24 HOUR DARKNESS
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—-YOU—-ON THE MAGAZINE, YOU AS YOURSELF
THEN ALL THE PEOPLE AROUND YOU
WHO YOU PAY TO MAINTAIN
YOUR IDENTITY
YOU EMPLOY YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY
TO NUTURE YOUR PRIMARY IDENTITY
THEY REQUIRE CASH MONEY
AND HOLIDAY GIFTS
AND ATTENTION
THEY ROB YOU OF WHO YOU COULD BE
YOUR INNER LONGINGS REMAIN FANTASIES
* Norman’s mother said that you were a withholder
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famous on a magazine for everyday imperfections
an adult poet busy crashing and breaking
role-playing in loneliness
fellow poets winged and weaponed
magazines rolled up and brown on one end
magazines that smell like Bethlehem
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the magazine misrepresented me – the quotes were all flarf
my picture was edited
touched up &
molested
they made me look like a 7ft skinny midget black woman –
I had a staple in the middle of my forehead
I wrote a letter of angry words to no one in particular –
a letter no one would read
to be filed in fire
in amongst horoscopes and money saving tips
the life of Johnny Boy exposed –
quotes from people I don’t know
& have never seen
pictures of me and them and us and price tags on my clothes an expensive red car and a woman with big tits
salacious scandal and floor plans of the hotel room
don’t believe everything you read
tittle tattle for the hoi polli
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…like the surface of Mars, shades of red
and wherever you looked you could see the mountains below cloudless skies-
small dead towns dotted the half finished highway – dust covered everything –
WE WILL LEAVE AGELESS FOOTPRINTS
on the tundra
on the pampa
all and everything under the sun
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IN AMERICA, IF ONE MENTIONS BIG BREASTS
THEY WOULDN’T FIT IN AN AUTOMOBILE
EXPENSIVE OR RED
NO GO
HUMILITY IS JUST TOO DAMN BIG
NOT CRITICIZING
DESCRIBING
PHONY NOSTALGIA LIKE WEAK ROMANCE
PEOPLE DAYDREAM DURING SEX
WHO WE ONCE WERE
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STRAPPED TO HER POEMS
EMILY DICKINSON
SO CLOSE—TOO CLOSE
I CENSOR WHAT I WRITE
REWRITING OBSERVATIONS
THE DETECTIVES ARE FRONTIERSMEN
THEY CARRY BULLETS AND DESTRUCTION
I SIT IN THE SHADOWS WITH MY JESUS BOOK
JESUS IS MY PERSONAL PICASSO
I SHARE MANY THINGS BUT I REFUSE TO SHARE MY JESUS
NOT THE DOLLAR STORE JESUS, NOT THE READER DIGEST JESUS
I SPEAK OF MY PRIVATE JESUS, MY LOVING LORD, MY CHRIST
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YOU’VE REPLACED YOUR FAMILY
WITH PHOTOGRAPHS OF JAZZ MUSICIANS
SPECIFIC PROBLEMS LEFT IN ANOTHER CITY
MISQUOTES IN THE FAME MAGAZINE
WHAT EXCUSE—THAT MAGAZINE OF SHAME ?
A HOLE THROUGH WHICH YOU COULD PEEP
ALL THOSE EYES LOOKING AT YOU
TOO MANY TO COUNT
HUMAN RECOGNITION
*I’ve saved some human recognition for you
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still unavailable,
away from modernity, the dunes are naked and they have never heard of Emily and they laugh at jazz – rumours have spread of children’s ears bleeding
– jazz notes seen as bullets
postcards sent home
pictures of octogenarians stating at the horizon – postcards covered in sand
have you been to the land of ideas?
have you seen the carrion?
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–
–
Your picture frames all contain pictures of
dead presidents
a legacy of decay and power collapsed
–
–
Your parents once shook hands with him
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——————On emilys grave stones “tis a pity
she was a whore”—————
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HUNGRY READERS TORMENTED WITH DAILY LIFE
CUSTOMARY TAKE AND ASK FOR MORE
BUDDY, CAN YOU SPARE A LITTLE CRITERIA ?
A BOX OF TORN WORDS IN THE CLOSET
WORDS WITHOUT ROLES
WORDS IN WHEELCHAIRS
WHEEL ME OVER
CONSTRAINTS OR LIMITED CONSTRAINTS ?
BEAUTIFUL WOMEN REEL BACKWARD IN HORROR
HOMELY FEMALES WITH HINGES
————–BEND——————
COSTUMES AND WIGS
POETRY WITH TART SAUCE
ELEGANTLY SCENTED
GAUZY CURTAINS
PROFESSIONAL ASSASSINS CHASING THE KENNEDY CAR
HAND-CARVED BULLETS IN TOY GUNS
NOT A SINGLE HEAVENLY BREEZE
IN THE WHOLE STATE OF TEXAS
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I have retuned and am on the other side of the divide – invisible forces have pushed me here
– I am in league with THEM
the Black Hand Gang
the family Fratelli
Murder inc
the Recidivists
the Knights Templar & the Church of Satan
Chutulu hides behind the curtains
the hidden message on currency
– I’m sorry
but my hands are tied
and my lips will remain sealed (the lady can protest but…)
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BLUBBER-LIP JAGGER WITH HIS MULTIPLE SEXES
HE LAUGHED AT YOUR SEAL LIPS
HE LAUGHED AT YOUR HANDS
SPIKED WITH HOMOSEXUAL HAIRS
YOU AND YOUR HERMAPHRODITE
YOKO ONO LOOK-A-LIKE
BOTH OF YOU IN A LARGE PHOTO
ON THE EAST WALL OF ROMAN POLANSKI
CHURNING BUTTER—JAZZED UP JISM
YOU WERE IN THE LEAGUE
DECEASED HOLLYWOOD STARS
STRIPPED AND FLOGGED
PART-TIME PROSTITUTE
PART-TIME NOVELIST
PETTY THIEF (AND NOT PROUD OF IT)
YOUR ORAL LIFE RENDERED IN SUBTITLES
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PART-TIME PROSTITUTE………..PART-TIME POET
PHYSICAL NASTINESS—SWELTERING GROINS
ONE-ARMED MALE ORGANS
SKIN AND TURKEY-FOLD FLESH
AND SOMETIMES ONE LAUGHS
AND OTHER TIMES ONE WANTS TO RUN
THE POET HAS A QUIET MOMENT
RESTRAINED, SILENCE WITH SHADOWS
PUBIC HAIR WITH A SWEDISH SWEATHOUSE SMELL
OLD DISHWATER, OLD MOP BUCKET, HOT BABY DIAPER
ONE TRIES TO PRUNE THEIR DADDIES
CLEAN UNDERGARMENTS, MATCHING SHOES
NOT MY FIRST TIME—I AM NOT CLUMSY
EXPLOITATION—IMAGINED AND DEPICTED BY MEN
EACH ONE SCRIBBLED
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YOUR ORAL LIFE RENDERED IN SUBTITLES
BEAUTIFUL WOMEN WITH THEIR HAIR UP
——————————WITH THEIR HAIR DOWN
COATED WITH HERMETIC MYSTERY
THROAT BOUND SEX
A SINGLE FINGER IN THE NEW LAND
DEEPER, WEIRDER, CRUDER,
HEAVENLY SCATOLOGICAL
NO NEED FOR VOCABULARY
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small children in the distance look like scratches on the horizon
the lunatics will take over the asylum
but the asylum will still be full of lunatics
howling at a silver dollar moon
she will be there with battle plans scribbled on his sleeping back
future past
a dark place dead trees broken bones & gravestones
years since then
we are just remembering
beautiful woman wig woven from human hair
4 kopeks a strand
her lips jaggeresque pillows of blood
I save the magazine for the fire
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DEAR JOHNNY BOY, THE LUNATIC COMMENTARY HAS BEEN POSTED
YOUR MOTHER, YOUR SISTER, YOUR LOVER, THE INFAMOUS “SHE”
WINGED AND HORNED AND DOING THE DEVIL BUSINESS
FALSE POTIONS IN FOOD AND LOVE—SATAN SNOT
I TELL YOU NOT TO HOWL AT THE MOON
YOU ARE A MAN OF LETTERS AND NUMBERS
TAKE COMMAND AND SAIL STRAIGHT
SHE WILL DEFEAT YOU ON YOUR BACK
WITH HER SLICK WITCH HOLE
WATCH HER SQUAT
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THREATENING TO BREAK OUT INTO OPEN HOSTILITY
MAGAZINE JOHNNY WITH ONE EMOTIONAL ARM FREE
HYPERSENSITIVE TO BAD PRESS, LUDICROUS COMMENTS
SO WHAT IF YOU PEED ON A CRUCIFIX ?
NO LOSS OF HOPE FOR MERCY
FORCES IN HEAVEN
MUST HAVE A SENSE
OF HUMOR
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GROWING SLOWLY TO AN INFINITE SIZE
YOUR MAGAZINE ARTICLE
JOHNNY BOY
MYSTERIOUS RHYTHMS
DURING ACTS OF LOVE
METAPHYSICAL SEXUALITY
BIG MONEY FOR TOO-TIGHT
AND THAT WAS ONLY
THE SECOND PARAGRAPH
EMBRYO POET
IMPRACTICABLE BABY-POETRY
CLEVER, BUT NOT CORRECTLY SPELLED
YOUR FATHER AND HIS COY MISTRESS
ENCOUNTERS WITH REJECTION
A SWIM WITH TOO LITTLE WATER
INNER, UNCONSCIOUS DRAMA
TALK ABOUT YOUR WORM
TIGHTLY CONSTRICTED ABOUT WORM TALK
POSSIBLE DARKER RECESSES
BUT SELF-RECOGNITION
THE LIVING THING IN MAN
———(THE WORM)———-
GROWING SLOWLY TO AN INFINITE SIZE
YOUR MAGAZINE WORM
JOHNNY BOY
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THE TOUCH OF AN ANGEL—WILD CONTORTIONS
EVERY NIGHT WAS SACRIFICE NIGHT
AT THE CURIE HOUSE
KINGS AND QUEENS AND PROPHETS
HOMEMADE METH
JUMP OUT OF A SPEEDING CAR METH
HAD TO KEEP IT IN A GLASS JAR
THE SMELL ALONE
COULD KILL A CAT
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OBSCURE AND INCOMPLETE IDEAS
YES LORD, THERE WAS A TRUCKLOAD
COUNTRY PEOPLE HEARING BOBOLINKS
CITY CITIZENS SWEARING IT WAS THE ROLLING STONES
INCOMING STIMULATION—BURNING UP WITH METH FEVER
FLY ALL THE WAY ACROSS AMERICA
TO PURCHASE HOMEMADE METH
NEAH BAY METH
BY WAY OF FORKS, WASHINGTON
THROWING ROCKS AT FISHERMEN IN THE PARKING LOT
SWEATING IN THE COLD WINTER WIND
FEELING VIOLENT
WANTING TO HURT SOMEONE
MAKE THEM FEEL THE HURT
MAKE THEM SUFFER
YOU KNOW YOU’VE BOUGHT GOOD METH
WHEN YOU CAN NO LONGER CURSE
MUMBLE AND FOAM AT THE MOUTH
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BUYING METH FROM CRAZY MOTORCYCLE THUGS
WITH NAMES LIKE THE SONS OF JACOB
GAD, ASHER, LEVI, SIMEON
BLACK EYES AND AN EVEN BLACKER SMELL
CHAINS AROUND THEIR NECKS
BABY SKULLS WITH HAIR
I HAD A GUN BUT THAT WAS A JOKE
WHAT WAS I GONNA DO ?
SHOT A DEVIL ?
THEY LAUGHED AT MY TAN
WAS I A NEGRO SANTA ?
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meth meth meth meth meth meth meth meth meth
meth meth meth
meth meth meth cocked up in backwoods by inbreds, Bunsen burners burning, bubbling
conical flask and other apparatus good meth that makes you seat and remove your skin, meth
meth meth meth
cooked on spoons the black market for new spoons – a thousand lighters flickering in car parks and under bridges – she was shaking so hard I though there were two of her – you’ve got try everything 14 times she said –
Emily and the opiates
was her imaginary band name – astronauts take meth to space
confined spaces the while universe is collapsing on them – tin can claustrophobia and atmospherics sweats
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MICK JAGGER HIDING BEHIND A ROCK ON MOUNT SINAI
HE COULD SEE THE FIRES DOWN BELOW
HIS CHILDREN WERE FLAMES OF ARTISTIC EXPRESSION
ALL HIS EARTHLY BELONGINGS COVERED WITH VOLCANO FLOW
THE ELIXIRS OF METH MAKING ALL THINGS TRANSPARENT
*what price to unfold ?
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ASTRONAUTS ARE NOT SQUIRRELS
THEY ARE NOT OPPOSED TO THE DECEPTIVE ARTS
DAYDREAMS OF TRAVELING CIRCUSES IN OUTER SPACE
THEATRICAL ENTERTAINMENT WITHOUT INTERPRETATION
ALL WOULD BE MADE CLEAR IN HEAVEN
RHETORICAL QUESTIONS AND METH
A PROMISING CHUNK FOR THE VOYAGE
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descended from hairyarsed apes – hanging like yo-yo’s from branches – picking fleas
apes on meth and bath salts apocalyptic visions of tanks and ruins and eyes gouged out crimes from adult movies
cave paintings of mayhem scratched with nails at times of frenzy
she sat out in the sun
in the evening she felt like tiny push pins were being dragged along her skin –
apes with guns
apes in space
love and a fist
squirrels and nuts
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HOW DOES ONE DISTINGUISH BETWEEN THE THINGS
THAT OUGHT TO BE PRESERVED
AND THOSE THAT SHOULD BE
DESTROYED ?
ODD NUMBERS OF TEETH
SPITTLE RECEDES AND MORE ARE REVEALED
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POETRY BUILT UP OF CLICHES
READY-MADE WORDS
WITH VERBS
SLOW DOWN BUT DON’T STOP
PREDICTABILITY—OUT THE WINDOW
WORDS INAPPROPRIATE TO THE SITUATION
THE ELEMENTS SHOULD FIT INTO A WHOLE
*literal meanings are painful push pins
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STOP MOVING TOWARDS DEATH
CONTEXT AS WELL AS SEMANTICS
———CUTLERY———–
A STOCK OF SPOONS
ENDLESSLY RECYCLED
RE-EXAMINED FOR PERSONALITY
BABY AFTER BABY
EACH ONE A PUSH FROM IMMEDIATE DEATH
DEATH THROUGH LACK OF USE
UNRAVELLED WORMS
A NEIGHBOR SISTER
PRONE TO KNIT
*a sweater of speech
degenerates into a vulgar brawl
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*wives with polar regions
WIVES WITH POLAR REGIONS
RHYMES ABOUT RUSES
OF PHYSICAL SEDUCTION
ENDLESS SPOONS IN THE BED
CONJUGAL LOVE ON CUTLERY
AMBIGUOUS ROMANTIC DEPICTIONS
EXPOSED GROINS WITH WORMS
A NEIGHBOR SISTER
PRONE TO KNIT
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THE PROJECTION OF ENERGIES AND EROTICS
INTO UNRAVELLED WORM FORM
THROW IN A NEIGHBOR SISTER
PRONE TO KNIT
EXPLICIT ENOUGH
SELF ADDRESSED JOHNNY BOY
SLEEP BECOMES A MATTER OF PERPETUAL
EACH SEX TRYING TO HIDE WHAT THEY DEPEND ON
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SILK WORMS EATING THEIR SPECIAL DIET
THEIR POOP HAS A VERY STRONG PURITAN SMELL
I LIVED IN A SMALL TOWN IN VIRGINIA
“FRONT ROYAL”—-COMPLETE WITH A SILK INDUSTRY
I LIVED ON THE TOP FLOOR IN AN AIRY APARTMENT
BELOW ME WAS A FAMILY OF CIRCUS PEOPLE
IN THE SUMMER I COULD SEE THE FISH-BOY
IN A CHILD’S POOL KEEPING WET
THEY WOULD SAY, “HELLO”
AS PEOPLE OFTEN DO
TO A MINISTER
OR A PRIEST
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ALWAYS AWARE OF PASSPORTS INTO REGIONS
WHERE OTHER CHRISTIANS DARE NOT TREAD
ANY REASON TO ESCAPE ORDINARY RELATIONS
SINFUL PASSION—SIGN ME UP
RE-CREATE A CRIME—I AM GAME
SPLENDOR IN FORKS, WASHINGTON
READY TO MANGLE COMMUNITY TASTE
TO EXPERIENCE THE LUXURIANCE OF FANCY
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I know fish boy, during droughts his family would take turn to spit on him – fountains of spit
– no space for a paddling pool when forced by poverty & the fire at leviathan to move deep inside the conurbation –
– they carried the silk worms in small cases – the priests waved them off –
fish boy
the bearded lady
the limbless off spring
they were all there, bottom floor, Virginia amongst the odours and leather bound books stained from fish boys fin marks and salty tears
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WHEN CORNERED, THEY ASKED ME TO SOLVE THE RIDDLE
FAINT REGRETS—EMPLOYEES MUST BE SUBORDINATED
CASH MONEY IN A DILEMMA
A LEAK WITH PROFOUND ANXIETIES
BULLETS SOLVE FAILURE
BABY BABY BULLETS SOLVE FAILURE
LIKE A POET—THE FINAL BULLET WAS EXHILERATING
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DAILY LOG OF TENSIONS:
————————————-
SELFISHNESS
FONDNESS FOR ANOTHER
COMMITMENT
OBEDIENCE
DODGING SEX
NURSED ANGER
OUTSIDER BLUES
STALKING
SHYSTERS
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POETRY FULL OF PROGRESSIVE PORTIONS
FLASHBACKS TO PINK JAGGED EDGES
ANTICIPATING A SHOWING—SHORT TIGHT CURLS
BLUDGEONING ON THE HONEYMOON
SEXUALITY ITSELF BEYOND DEVIANT
MENNACE INTENSIFYING
TO RE-CREATE A CRIME
*I got off with probation—love starved with heavy eyebrows
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no string attached I know all about sex and death – no strings attached to the marionette hanging from flickering lamppost- dragged from slumber by revolutionary forces – six days after the famine started
the electricity died –
a town with no shadows –
reports from the front as the first snow falls –
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the question mark like a bent over old man, the questioning of fools, the hairy palms of Neanderthals wobbling through the air conditioned malls,
no signals hitting their limbic system, reptiles brain in control
the hierarchy of needs –
food, shelter, widescreen TV,
meat, a hole,
NASCAR cutlery
the flarf gatherers
rejoice at the useless
I spend all day looking at a screen that looks back at me – there is a TV programme that is always on, somewhere
everywhere
it’s always on,
i fall asleep and wake up to see a monster, a man with a gun, a detective, a car chase, a
weather report
that radio station that plays a stairway to heaven on a 24hr loop
the white noise of the everyday
blue charlie doesn’t know the passwords
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POOR BLUE CHARLIE IS BY LAW HIS OWN CHILD
HAVING NEVER MATURED
A FRUIT NEVER PICKED
*tinged with envy as his cousins have gone to market
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a cow with many stomachs,
curdled milk at the market,
magic beans for sale
swallow one and see Elvis in the clouds, halo rhinestone stars
pelvis friction power stations built to specification,
rats nibbling at the wires,
the robots are unable to heal themselves, they haven’t seen their schematics
their not aware of the plans
the noises if the foundry lulled him in to sleep mode
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PHYSICAL INFORMATION ABOUT STRINGS
SEX AND DEATH AND STRINGS
COAX HER INTO BED WITH STRINGS
CLEAR-SIGHTED SCISSORS IN HAND
NO HONEYMOON, MATE
CELEBRATED POET—WOMANIZER
HELPLESS SILENCE
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IGNORANCE
WHAT ONE DESIRES IN YOUNG FEMALES
SHAPING ATTITUDES—TRAINED TO SERVE
HAPPY SENSUAL CONTINUANCE
HIGHLY SEXED
WANTING TO SHARE IN POETRY
TO PLAY WITH THE EARS
LIKE EMILY PLAYED WITH HER RABBIT
ONE NIGHT IN THE DARK
SHE WANTED TO TASTE YOUR PIPE
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A RUDE AWAKENING
AFTER TWO BEERS
SHE WAS:
RITUALISTIC
A SKEPTIC
AN ATHEIST
A REFORMER
SOLEMN
130 POUNDS OF MISPLACED SHAME
SHE TOSSED HER COOKIES
AND HER LIBIDO
“NOTHING HAD PREPARED YOU FOR HER PUBIC HAIR”
RUINED AND NERVOUS
YOU WROTE THAT SEVERAL TIMES
ON THE DOCTOR FORM
HUMILIATING EROTIC PICTURES
“PROBE NO FURTHER”
LUBE ON THE IGNORAMUS
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POETRY BAKED IN A PRISON OVEN
CHARACTERS WATCHING THEMSELVES
WATCHING THEMSELVES
IN BETTER CLOTHING
WITH NICER SKIN TONE
“I SAY OLD CHAP, THAT HUE IS TO DIE FOR”
CAMERAS INSIDE CAMERAS
EVEN THE BLIND CAN SEE
IMMOBILIZING INMATES
FAR FROM THE FORMULAS
OF THE PAST
ENTERTAINMENT INSIDE THE BIG HOUSE
BOUNDARIES
BEING PREOCCUPIED WITH BOUNDARIES
STARTING FIRES AND HARMING PEOPLE
VIEWERS’ HABITUAL EXPECTATIONS
ALTER THE MESSAGE IN WORDPRESS POETRY
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russian prison cells no bigger than a matchbox – frozen beans in permafrost – cold showers and lock down – knifes functioned from pens – words scratched into walls
a slow loosing of the mind
mental facilities going south
rag clothing absorbs human waste
pictures of Stalin follow the inmates
– removed from formulas erased from spreadsheets names and words reduced to the pureness of NUMBERS –
” 246373748 report to Leviathan”
so deep into the system there is no recollection of what bought them there – lubed the memory
un-discovered ghosts
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COLD SHOWERS ON THE HONEYMOON NIGHT
PRETENTIOUS DICTION AND IMITATION FLARF
VERBAL GARBAGE LIKE APE TURDS
FRIENDS YAP AND KICK
FRIENDS SAMPLE INTERCOURSE
HEARTFELT VOYAGING
PENCILING POEMS
*the process of writing comes first
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LEVIATHAN DISCRIMINATION
NO MEANS EASY
CORRECTNESS IN CUTLERY
BALLOON CHILDREN FLOAT TO SPACE
YOUTH CANNOT BE CURBED
CONTEMPLATING SUICIDE AFTER THE FATAL BLOOD CLOTS
THEN THE FATAL CAR ACCIDENT—NOBODY SURVIVED
THEY COULDN’T REMOVE MY CLOTHING
MY BODY WAS ANONYMOUS
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fatal car crash – the fusing of metal and glass, the spider web crack of the egg shell windscreen, the crash and the fusion of ideas – one into another, the ballon children float up and up
until there is no up left and the ballon sags and deflates like a soiled condom, limp like the honeymoon night
—–they has to cut his skinny jeans off
——the dead eyes looked past the road signs, the mountain up there on the horizon, past the blood and through the shards the dental records
the fingerprints
the homemade videos left on youtube
the eBay account
anonymous but they knew everything
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the process the process
automatic or rigid
rules broken
replaced by new ones
the process the process
requires imagination and words
the incessant yapping of friends like little fluffy dogs carried by actresses and fed by flunkies
a sample menu below the comments
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I TRIED TO SMILE FOR THE HOMEMADE VIDEO
BUT I HAD NO LIPS
THE RING OF THE EXPLOSION
CHANTING SECRET NAMES OF HEAVEN FOLK
NO LONGER UNDERNEATH A BEARD
WAS I STILL HOLY ?
*a mechanic from Mexico City said something like,
“That turkey is done “
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THE SENSUAL CRASH OF THE AUTOMOBILE
MADE ONE FORGET THE NEED FOR SOLUTIONS
THOUGHTS OF THE BLUE-BLACK BULLS
A FINGER-SNAPPING BEAT
THINKING OF JESUS
ALWAYS SPOKE OF BREAKFAST IN HEAVEN
NOW I AM IN LINE FOR SECONDS
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KEROUAC AND THE METH-HEADS
WERE WAVING FROM FORKS
TAINTED WITH IMPERFECTION
MAYBE I WAS UNREALISTIC ABOUT UTOPIA
I THINK I SAW MARILYN MANSON
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children’s face like shiny new coins
glistening in the sun – over time they will grow into their features
climbing tress & shooting people with sticks – there was always a house in the neighbourhood you were warned not to go near – where dead plants look out through the window
forlorn swing needs oiling
– slow moving cars
– old films of your youth
– scared of passages from the Bible (wet yourself while thinking obscene massacres)
—————————
she told me that she hated stained glass and bending on her knees – fear of men with beards
fear of sandals
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HOW MANY FALSE ATTEMPTS TO REACH OUT ?
SEEING MYSELF SINKING INTO THE GRAVE
EVERYTHING EXPANDS OUTWARD
AS ONE DROPS DEEPER
DRAWN BACK TO THE SOIL
CALENDAR TIME IS COMEDY
THE RAINY SEASON
IS THE WORST
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the sun reappeared from behind the glass pyramid reflecting prisms of light down the corridors
and avenues
and momentarily,
people forgot about things as they glanced up – hand cover eye –
architects have tried to bring the outside in – internalisation of grass and weed –
it’s in the doing she said
practise over theory
false attempts
a placebo at best
deep roots vein like
umbilical under the tree
stretching stretching
the BIG BLACK CROSSES on the calendar to mark the passing
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THE BIG BLACK CROSSES
HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I HURT MYSELF ?
POETIC POSSIBILITIES HACKNEYED
RADIATING ODORS
THAT MAKE SCHOOLBOYS DROOL
AN ANONYMOUS CENTER WITH ODD FORM
POSSIBLY A SEA CREATURE
POSSIBLY THE SCARS OF EDEN
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EARTHQUAKES AND BUTTQUAKES
“IT’S IN THE DOING”, SHE SAID
BONES IN THE HILLS
PRETENTIOUS SWAGGERERS
PUBIC HAIR COCOONS
NOTHING COULD BE SHOWN
ON THE TELEVISION NEWS
AMERICAN POETS WERE SHY
THEIR ODDS AND ENDS
WORSE FOR WEAR
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THE UNDISCLOSED BUSINESS OF JOHNNY BOY
INVESTIGATING APARENT EXCEPTIONS
INSTRUCTION OR AMUSEMENT ?
DOMESTIC WOMEN
QUAINTLY HALVED
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handcuffed to a stranger arranged marriage
at gunpoint, fake smiles in the ceremonial pictures
(there was no honeymoon)
on the top deck spat at by salty wind as dolphins guide you
Charlie boy mentally marooned on an island comprising second hand words and coconut husks – there is no view, save the straight line of the horizon –
Noah at the ark sale
Noah salvaging nuts and bolts
Noah reading Spinoza and drinking tea, Italian cigarette hanging from his lip
you said you would never get unit bed with the enemy but you lied
misgivings and enteral regrets
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ODDS AND ENDS WORSE FOR THE WEAR
NOTHING COULD BE SHOWN ON TELEVISION
SPECTATORS WANTED TO SEE
PEOPLE SPIT UP HAIRBALLS
WADS OF PUBIC HAIR COCOONS
MEDIEVAL SUBJECT MATTER
*troubled by grammatical confusion
flarf was not included
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constant lawless emotions
night and day
one candy bar after another
tottering from all the sugar
anonymous narrators
terminology
limited
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YOUR AUTOMOBILE LOOKED LIKE
A CROSSWORD PUZZLE
THE ACCIDENT
JUST A JUMBLE
OF LETTERS
INTERPRETATION
THE BATHING SUIT
TIGHT AND LABORED
IN THE CROTCH
ALL THAT HAIR
VISUAL SPECTACLE SUPREME
HEDONISTIC ?
*one cruel person said that it had been slaughtered
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cheap meth from a bordello
seminude girls
with runny noses
chemical robots
a different doctor each day
damsel-in-distress
individuality-flattening pills
being spoon-fed today
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no dictionary or grammar required
I could smell God on her
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following the runny nose flow
all mucus and membranes
drugs in small plastic bags
powders folded in the pages of left wing polemics – origami expert, nimble of finger,
robots without conduits
robots with no circuit boards
a heart and liver
robots and cannibals
sleepwalking humans drunk on soma
pupils retract
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I saw the dictionary and I burnt it and I joined a group that attempted to write a new dictionary – we stole from here and borrowed from here –
and six years later we have got nowhere –
we stop for drink every 10minutes
then cigarette breaks
we leave each evening saying ‘tomorrow will be better”, then
slow walk home through dark town, stops for jazz and drink
lungs of smoke
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A LONG TIME AGO
WHILE YOU WERE WORKING
ON THE DICTIONARY
I LIVED ON THE OUTSKIRTS
OF WASHINGTON DC
IN DARK TOWN
2 WHITE MEN
IN A WORLD OF BLACKS
SOMETIMES SO MANY PEOPLE
SAT ON AND AROUND OUR CAR
THAT WE COULDN’T LEAVE
—————————————
ENDOWED MEN WOULD WAVE
THEIR DONGS TO THE SKY
GOD UP ABOVE
WOULD WAVE HIS HOLY OYSTER
BACK AT THEM
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ONE CANDY BAR AFTER ANOTHER
THE POLICE APPEARED
PEOPLE HIDING STICKY FINGERS
BEGGING THE WORLD NOT TO NOTICE
*the walls get higher
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athletes in a box of Kleenex
rumors of the runny nose flow
women emulating men
perky and pretty
pee running down their legs
the smell of Pernod
and Bordeaux
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police hiding in bushes, waiting
little regard for your wellbeing,
people don’t always notice what’s in front of their face,
hansel and gretel
toothless chasing wrappers, feral
she was full of non Newtonian liquid
you could tell by her gait
Rolling Stones sticky fingers black hash ingrained on fingertips Jagger gyrating
Charlie Watts walked off embarrassed
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during peace time we dedicated hours to building defences and planning for tomorrow –
she sat on the bed sewing buttons on tunics, in a bunker full of wires,
tinned food, bottles of wine waiting to age
pin up pictures hanging half heartedly on a wall
– nipples following you everywhere
a small transistor radio that can only capture the sound of a man weeping – strange frequencies –
– electrifying hair on head and arms
– robots making drones somewhere not marked on any maps
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ROBOTS MAKING DRONES
MAP MAKERS NO LONGER EMPLOYED
LOCATIONS HAVE NUMBERS
ONE PUNCHES IN A NUMBER
AND A LOCATION SHOULD APPEAR
ON THE SCREEN
but, numbers can be fleeting
THE AROMATICS OF PAGAN PRACTICES
SYNTHETIC ALMOST ARTIFICIAL NUMBERS
IMMENSE REGISTERS OF NOTES AND ACCORDS
COMPLETELY UNKNOWN NUMBERS
HYGIENE AND THE ART OF SWALLOWING NUMBERS
HUMAN—NONHUMAN—MACHINE-TOOLED
ROBOTS MAKING DRONES
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in the town the shop sold second hand words –
double meanings from the previous owners –
– cheap words
poorly constructed –
words used in greetings cards for relatives you’ve never seen –
– angry words used in letters to local government –
– words that just fall off the page
– the fluidity of words & the solidness of numbers
French maths and cigarettes smoke breeze over forest clearings at the chateau –
Donald Trumps hair exists in its own sphere and influences his decisions
(. the architect advised his peers he would never build a house from words.)
drones and robots share the same DNA
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ENEMY SYMPATHIZERS HIDING FROM DRONES
DRONES MADE BY ROBOTS: DNA COUSINS
WIRETAPPING WITHOUT THE WIRES
SEX SANDWICH BLACKMAIL
STIFFENED PENALTIES FOR THOSE CAUGHT
PERIODICAL POKING
SIN WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES
ADULTS BETWEEN THE SHEETS
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WORDS EXCISED AND THEN RESTORED
ONLY POETS USE THE STRONG ONES
A SORT OF LOOSENING OF THE BOWELS
NAUSEATING DETAILS——GONORRHEAL
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strong hinges keep the gate closed
no loosening
nothing to see here
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REMOTE, SPIKY AND TORTUOUS
A POWERFUL BUT IMPERFECT
PIECE OF WORK
NO ESCAPE FROM SIN THERE
THE SIGNATURE OF SATAN
IN THE SMELL AND THE WARE
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UNTAUGHT AND BROUGHT UP HEATHENS
EACH PATH LEADS TO GRIEF
THREE WHEELS ON THE GROUND
ILL-USAGE—IGNORANCE—NEGLECT
SEARCHING FOR A STRANGE EGG
A MATE WITH A WISH-GRANTING CROTCH
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THE DAMAGE FROM HIGHER EDUCATION
SIZABLE INNER LIFE
INFORMATIVE GUIDES
THE POET IN AN ASSIGNED SPHERE
REMINISCING
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informative guides lose their lustre
all information will become redundant
refuse & scrap
higher education smoked away
ruined privilege
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POSTERS OF PEOPLE FROM THE PAST
NOT CARNIVAL CLOWNS
OR THINGS COUGHED UP
THE SEWER SYSTEM
REACTIVATION
WEAVING IN AND OUT
OF ARTIFICIAL SLEEP
TOPOGRAPHY OF CIRCULAR DRAINS
WAIST HOLE TINKERING
*science is often blind
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