Thursday, December 31, 2009

caving that could have been could have had had the monster not been sighted early

the bright ^^heart rings over the hit or miss governor
sad though it seems in the little-(((90()child spotted lost
a new thing rises like corru?-&*gated plastic its limit..../?ations
sure like fire sure like the absence of angelic force////////

so she in all memory of cloakrooms inert in her concern
of staid fatherhood the occasional violence so it took her

as mechanics this not this this not this
in the garden some eventual escape

eventually a place like that a place
from where to claim something
not O not merely a place
a place from where to look down

into those phreatics to claim as vital forces

those phreatics look those
vadose those dread passages

wherein one might

if oh""""%£££ haha the 5y5monster.../// hand not reached in
haha had not ript it all out ha is that all that is left
of you now? fathre56%mudre...$)?/0000000-----------------------------

round an round the race track the little tractors came anooooooooooooooooooooooo
one went off the edge
and three (((burst into flame)))

look there has been a thing
we can't talk of it###even no# no#


Monday, December 28, 2009

quick the pirates are coming

the pirates the opirates swarm up from deeps
of sudden throat

one has three rows of teeth another
levitates from the mast foot hangs there over the ploughing ship
swells in a vicious solar flare exploding rains down
realigns at the poop then seastates forth big and menace

these pirates all of them in a wrack language
advance with cutlasses to where we are hollowed
heads out in our fearful caboozes

what is it with you pirates we ask

they shimmer then as though a startle had come across
we go with that
flinging turtle shells we rock-oxen swinge
the pirates in lurks there at the tabernacle they oyster out threats

we gather in like fry we eat up good all phosphorus and wave top

again the pirates have come up the thwarts
squidflooding their mouths at us

all the Last Day to come again in pink neptune arrays
you could bask in

reading wet books
till forever cracks


Thursday, December 24, 2009

black bird tongue

one of the kids is going feral
I saw him looking out the window
at a blackbird in the snow
his eyes stark yellow his tongue flicking
engaged and slow a week later he came in with a rabbit
in his mouth slicked it down blooming and bloody on the carpet

still jerking a little
look he says what I have brought to the table
I am concerned for his future as a politician
or town dignitary if the Press learn of this early deviance
this is how they start
then scales form behind the ears
next thing they sprout feathers
from the shoulders

and all is lost
I hope for some intervention from upon high
to save my son from the high winds
that have come so early upon him

there is still
(the air is still)

just....... time


parachutists of the pink disaster

so I have a new hat
that's just not good enough to stop the world

FDR himself in Morocco said that a hat is only an abstraction
of sex
of therefore the dream of war

Stalin of course leaned right over and requested
a retranslation

what the fuck he said he said
does he mean it?

all the while my new hat Tzara fishattack buried
treasure as if the goats had gone crazy now

down by the river the hatmen leaning in
a certain stench that cries over the hills

Paulus wringing his hands in apology
like oh I didn't really mean it

sorry I have gone back to Stalingrad
where my love waits
with machine chocolate

is this the end
is this
the end?


Stalingrad silent night

maybe it was at the tractor factory at Stalingrad
that humanity became enlightened
that the Buddha learned of the sniper art

my kids there in the rubble screamed along
with the Katyushas ran with the wild dogs
that came starving from the cellars

something broke there in the scream
some part of humanity looked out from the snow
and thought jigsaws might be an equally good way to go

into the night
sex was never an issue
it just flared like that like a dog had barked
or had failed to bark somewhere down by the stables

the presence of politicians is a corrupting taint within humanity
this is known

yesterday my heating went off
do you think I wept about it?
no I burnt what was available
starting with memory and working out

at the end of every forlorn meal in the underground
some new love begins

I mean you don't have to fuck your mother
just because she didn't like the chocolates
and you want to say you care

these are mistakes
like lying to children
telling them you are Batman
that you can fly more or less

you know sometime you will have to do it

better always to carry a few small sticks and find a bridge

this is what they were taught
in that old singsong tractor hymn
of Bing Crosby Stalingrad snowman walking
hey can you smell carrots?

nor women neither nor women
wolves from Ethiopia strangled in through tunnels
to a Palestine zoo

autosave failed
Christmas lifts over the rooftops like


Wednesday, December 23, 2009

moments in the spirit room

around about midnight
the ghosts start to bite

on the stair
a walking chair
now the electricity starts up

in this room alone
the time zone
logic lapses
I am thrown
spirit world I try hard
to keep my head up
but how do you explain
someone knocking on my door just now
so it thundered so it wept into the vast openings
of night yawing like bullets through flesh

yes of course I opened it
of course no one was there

all around that unseen clamour


Monday, December 21, 2009


thango ingdown
upcome re turnarrive staired
down by the upeye


Sunday, December 20, 2009

Le Dormeur du Val -- a translation of Rimbaud

it is a hole of greenery where a river sings
hanging madly to grasses
tatters of money
where sun of the mountain shone
it is a small valley which foams of rays a young soldier stop
open naked head and the nape
bathes in cool blue cresses
sleep it is wide in grass under the naked one
pale in its green bed where the light rains the feet
in the gladeoli it sleeps smiling
as would smile a sick child
it makes a nap Nature
rocks it warmly: it is cold
the perfumes do not make any more shiver
its nostril it sleeps in the sun
the hand on its tranquille chest
two red holes on the right

passing strange food mouth to mouth

being in love no—not that the wind
doesn't still when you step outside

(someone has their hands over your mouth
in your mouth around your head someone
holds you as you fade)

like you were broken into saccades
like they had sliced up your senses

the trees harbour dark things
the night is a wild white train driving
into its own abdomen
—digital craqelure shatters above

rains down glass and ice
see here is your face your thousand faces
in the rain memory
wake here at nightfall
where the hares dance dusk dawn grasp
with tiny hands we come running again
to your arms hold me hold me unbreathing
in the shallow brown water

below us shapes flick
not so in love that you wouldn't know it
nor so we fade
as the barking of dogs
over forest rides love is a mouthful
of pine needles the feel of a wet pelt
the stench of the other
—blood in the snow
hold me there beneath the snow

until the choirs have passed by
—again at dawn the thing on the bedhead watches
every day now it grows more vivid

soon it will speak
in the empty house
that no one will approach


Saturday, December 19, 2009

Lilith - An Anthology of Women's Poetry

Is now available here: click this link

I'm plugging this book partly because some of my friends are involved in it, and partly because there's some excellent poetry in there. Highly recommended.

Thursday, December 17, 2009


goblin who is not my enemy
goblin who looms at my edges
waiting for sunlight
to tug at the curtains
to run out
clasp at my heel

not enemy not saboteur

nor the unkind words of loved ones

mist that hangs
in air
after spasm stillness
in wet grass

who is neither loved

nor unloved
who waits

for a succession of moments
that come to nothing

swirl of your dust
your sadness, your trying-again
you who are not entirely my enemy
even now

withdraw my medication
I watch from some distance

that all things of the body
are sort of holy
sort of terrible

faintly irresistible,
compulsion itself
just the shadow
into which words fall
when voice stops
in this world
moves elsewhere

please don't burn so hard so fast
for the smoke offends my fucking eyes also of my friends here
at the next table

O I must have words
with you in your dart of sunlight
goblin of my heart
my own wordless night

here we are beyond recall rolling rolling

she pounds the table (who pounds the...?):

1. Remember this time damn it the waves,
the count the clock all of it remember she says remember...

2. this croupier no one you ever knew just a door banging in a wind
a hand reaching for you so much as start to breathe ugly how you do

beyond recall:

goblin of my spinning
flame in the day
goblin hands that reach to catch
hands that pull away

goblin of the heart's engulfing
roll the old yellow dice

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

an arch planchette

of the genealogy of long argument written
from the inside with a planchette or something
(one must assume the most common shape)

try to avoid being swept into eddies
he took some blood from me—I hate that
(his staff are not very polite)
I was shy at that time of my life
with the very concept of pollution

influential people/the law...
he might try learning some manners
like almost every pollutant
I'm worried about public relations

to some extent large or small
always a natural background

he tested my urine
that can show quite a lot of things
many wrecks were lost simply because
of a strong tidal stream

you're too young he said
maybe you'll get it later

the tests are very curious


life without the civilising intervention of regular oral sex

uh i don't want the earth to keep on
in its track no i don't want santa to come no more
nor no fairies to squat by the river
singing low plaints to the love of children
no i want it all to break and fail
all women to rush suddenly from their bloodbeds
intent upon burning something
all men to lift hammers and crush their own fingers
one by one in their workshops
then retire to nearby hostelries with straws
to contemplate with bloody women
the next act of clarity

(air in the bells. lake-voices at ring in the noonfish church.)


Monday, December 07, 2009

language acquisition device

she's never kissed me in any way that made sense
she turned her head slightly
looked out at the starlings in the rain
turned back like this
avidly read about starlets
from the newspaper
that was scattered on the floor like huge wet leaves flopped there
in a fucking flop crisis

in the night, though, starlings she looked
owls she looked also
many seafaring midnights of birds she looked
catafalques and stoops as though of doom yea she looked

me all so passionate but had to entwined look
so I too
yeah there they were, both of them dying
in front of the gas fire
hey hey what's going on he wakes now thinking like a hen on fire
don't be ridiculous

why you sit in trees with starling rain rain idiot
night of the stretches the trenches the facial
twigs tendrils cobwebs mycelia of the dream nothing
Buddha god moonlight of limbs what you want to take me
there where the moon bounces
no yet again I am not invited
to my own funeral

baltic sea 1955 wtf cold as angels mmm...


voice of violet war

put here your illegal ear
to the crystal set

his wartime voice of the hollows calls
Danzig—the Finland Station—Archangel
from tractors in rubble London calling
now war is enigma coding nickel from The Finns/oil from Ploesti
........morsing out Ultra .... .- -.. -. --- - - .... --- ..- --. .... -
- .... .- - -.. . .- - .... .... .- -.. ..- -. -.. --- -. . ... --- -- .- -. -.--

London crawling into its own rats unreal the voice of paper night
sirens of Goering's drub... violet descent all stations all stations
......................rat voices from the thin megaphone
flow down into an organ stench at Saint Pancras & the King's Cross
all-atlantic emergency from Hut 5 Hut 6 (unknown)
the fog signals fly in

Wetter setzt Messe. Das ist die glückliche Zeit.
Alaska nach Liverpool. Das ist die glückliche Zeit!

(into the cold alive moment frozen in the warm moment
all stopped held tight the thin voice
.................................the moment) den kalten lebendigen moment
...................eingefroren im warmen moment
- .. .-.. .-.. .... ..- -- .- -. ...- --- .. -.-. . ...
.-- .- -.- . ..- ... .- -. -.. .-- . -.. .-. --- .-- -.
let us go then you and I
Queen Mary ship of dreams
solve et coagula cathedral in the smoke
report fire here light and not light and light there look
every light in its own water

so many of us just quietly borne away
little lights at sea
............................our tiny Darwins all gone out
finched alive in fire and squeak

Sunday, December 06, 2009

fissures of men

·´¯`·.¸. , . .·´¯`·.. ><((((º>`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸.·´¯`·...¸><((((º>


Sky TV is amazing just a couple of months
and you know almost everything there is to know
for instance did you know that everyone was a cannibal?
no, see, but it's true, those Neanderthals you thought
ate grass and sang river songs petting each other
with big stupid placid grins like bovines no
they were all munching each others haunches

every chance they got you couldn't go to sleep back then
and hope to wake up with limbs crikey no that's why
they died out from sheer tiredness of having always
to stay awake and watch one's extremities and the Anasazi
that you thought spent their days tending gardens
and inventing games with corncobs in fact they had
a special delight in internal organs and bone marrow

of their neighbours and relatives even it turns out
Jesus when they discovered his grave—dude got half a child
sticking out his dead mouth seems he died from biting
off more than he could chew all holy guys get it the same way
either chugging on cock so hard they forget to breathe
or like Mohammed choked on a burger made of the brains
of a Jew neighbour he caught frying up his wife............yeah I guess
without Sky you know nothing all of you don't even see
the slavering nightmare that creeps upon you

even as we squeak now me I got myself prepared and oiled ready
for to offer myself spatchcocked whole to the history channel


Saturday, December 05, 2009

dark upon the faery flow

late afternoon and the sun
in September
a window
up a shadow ladder
you'd never guess
in an apple orchard
everything gleaming
almost in love
somewhere there in the leaves
in the trees the sunlight
a door a ladder what
fairies everywhere
in transposition
all of a sudden all of a hold
fireside no I mean yes
look at this then how
the light leans in low
almost they tread upon my boots
as leaves mythic really they seem gleaming
each a little waterfall of dark light
something like light
something like it

ready for the off


Friday, December 04, 2009

sunny down south

member A from
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hurt chords by J

search the web, Bing

he wants to be John and June
Klondike 1932 they came running like like
rotten fruit drip from the mouth
was sex politics back then in the etherised
shamericas of youth I mean it though
that shameless familiarity with skirts
the certainty the utter clockwise
i hurt myself today to see
here nothing here nothing here whirling girls
she was on the streets at 7 years old wauling
les ombres de la rue
little slut you should have guillotined her mother way before
as if table upon said in more
now look again upon the clock
facial tictactoe facial cumshot
all of us dripping in our even bukkake

no one laughs in this custard pie event
even the clock/cock shuts
(wrong twice a day imagine there in the carking shrubbery a strange face peered out its yellow vibe through long, long leaves)

air in the bells. lake-voices at ring in the noonfish church