enough white phosphorus to burn up a roomful of people
came out of her mouth
while she splayed
down there in mud
I have always tried, don't you see
as if oh out there like that they played
on the Whitby sands
some whale had flotted up and cold bespake
like washed up brothers and kamerades
trotting off to stalingrad's cold fucking
oh look here fuck they said and continued
where integers of apparence
oh no oh no
start restart bonnie and every little day
that you don't come
will be a season
cranking the same wire
even the very idea
but by winter this gate no longer
for now, you know
just this
love of wet cathedrals
of the mouth
.
.
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2 comments:
This did not particularly grab me when I first read it, sorry! However, I now love it. Everytime I read it, which is often, it brings a different meaning to me.
No worries. Glad you like it now! They're all just moments anyway, and not everyone likes all moments. Kind of agate slices, and not all of them are pretty all the way through.
Steve.
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