Friday, December 28, 2012

Sunday, December 23, 2012

entropic paradise

I've been asleep and going back to sleep—Facebook

as though it doesn't matter it all happens
she is just gone, down somewhere
the boy looks down that road late at night
listens for anything that says

I have been sleeping I am going back through
the dead grass radio

my door was always open
to going back at any moment

before it has arrived and oh once there then I lifted, listen
into the air
still as we are unknown you are not the eyes
of the same radio-turns this way that way fly-
catching catching that for which he listens:

I was sleeping I will sleep again she says again

not these conventions, no, you must have been
mistaken, intaken

it all happens as though it doesn't


Friday, December 07, 2012


 Was it so hard, Achilles, so very hard to die?
Thou knowest and I know not
So much the happier I—Patrick Shaw-Stewart

start them on the adventure
you are searching for (find out more)
what's on your mind?
the reflected photographer
looks like a ghost
polished my nails and toes I feel pretty
I am ready for Jesus
days I feel like my rapture is
almost ready

non-smoker with average body type

see anything like that happening now?
(details about the pixie)

1. select everything

2. ostrich arteries bypass hope

3. upgrade now and get awesome features


Wednesday, November 28, 2012

boy gives hug after owl story, speaks of love, complains

open your mouth when you speak
find some kind of love in enunciation
or else you just dead wood uh uh
hardly here
barely alive
algorithmic Bletchley Park
betrayal of of all humanity
by folding with the fear

bagpipes, black and white
popped up veins roses
the conclusion of the system of things


Thursday, November 22, 2012

ugh a claw in the blood

ugh a claw in the blood
teeth blue with words that will not wait
.............................I also will not wait
I will not deliver babies
or think or wait or want
I have nothing to do with smoke or images
I will not go wanting
tonight I will scratch it out
in dead chitin, triplicate, in the sand and blood
the dust that speaks.............whirling
I will write all poems everywhere
with a chicken's claw the blood from my thigh
..............................light lit light upon light
.....................................all these faraway inner edges


Wednesday, November 21, 2012

The Triggerfish Critical Review #10 is now available online, featuring lots of excellent poetry and reviews, with astonishing artwork by John Brosio, who I had the pleasure of interviewing. All this fantastiferous slurp is available just a short click away here!


Tuesday, November 20, 2012


get your coats on boys
we are going out looking
for nothing



deer tracks

deer tracks through the shrubs
all of us looking foolish
as the train goes by



slumping bookcases
oh all those words
what a burden



beck by the mill
silent with all its lost
old trollies

curtains fly out
in the late night winds
cold eyes staring


hard poor corn

all the night beat down like wet corn
black crop circles
saying nothing

even the owls run out
the wind stopped in its tracks
flies dropping from the mouths
of dead bats over the doorway
last sputters of stone sonar coming down
like honeydew, not bouncing
silenced all of it like a beat prisoner tied up
to a chair slumping as the clanging stops
the blooded guys saying shit
he got away this

even the chair bouncing
laughing confetti
through the corn


Monday, November 12, 2012

stairs from there to here

of the rising and the going I sing
of the nosing and the string
our earliest habitations
had no such elevations
no treads or risers
no such lofted dreams
no tiptoed surprises
to upper-storeyed memes
back then without cares
we rested vilely
at the foot of no stairs


Sunday, November 11, 2012

a crawling TV active already

the Chinese dominate baskets
... be surprising a false flag pulled off area 'ie'
I wouldn't put flowers in the gun barrel just yet
for several decades and then one day they just told you 
how is that possible?

A U.S. Embassy spokeswoman in Manila, Tina
said Wednesday that the fishing boat had started talking on water 
the previous day 
war within 60 days. probably .... for several decades 
and then one day they told you to FUCK OFF 
  in error, not intentionally

 Haartz Newspaper in Israel reported that Bibi was pissed
 oh he sent me flowers after insulting me for something or other

my words seemed to sink in


the hitching stone oct 2012

look out kid Obama coonskin cap
coonskin anyway, Cap
these laws made to resist tyranny now
diverted into bullying impasse oh oh
the pump don't work
she, Jefferson, has everything she needs
to paint the daytime anything she sees
it's all very well but
not forever
not with all these children
rushing all over like wild rats
in the heather
where the buboes lurk at the witchstone
where the fayres went
where the rock of everything for bathing
yeah that and the graves
the mass the fuck imagine if he wuz blacker


never buy discount time machine mama

skinny fuck
what you like that fer?
shoulda seen my
as though the clouds had names
or some rabbit now ruled the world
it's cold all over the shadow now
at dawn examining my fingertips
looking for what happened
how this bed full of blood and cockroaches
became the Oracle
to which people far/wide
flocked to witness
what really


the snuffle of a coming future

if this gets too real please

O his dread in that moment is that
he will die and leave everything behind
the blindness and the yellow
for the inheritance
the mother thing, let us not misremember
one day my son he shouts at the vast window
above the city nightfall
all of this will be yours

(China fills capsules with human baby flesh etc)

where is your outrage at this?
oh there yes

all of us from the outer wards huddled
in dressing gowns
around the victims
just in case

if this gets too real please
approach an attendant


this way, quick

there's always going away, there's always that
when all else
sail away like a light bulb that went out
in someone's kitchen by the canal
while they slept
dreaming of the ripples that ate at the cracks
that appeared in the icing of the faces
which ate at the ice with such utter looks, look—

this tension of trying to preserve power and safety
it must be a disaster for the nerves
I suggest giving in to everything
then eating cake for some time

like moles, moving always on
blind if necessary


the cousin wields great standards

now again the fluted convoluted roundhere
of the unworthy house and occupant
it is too late I will call you tomorrow
your fingers your fingers out there white as
another night
everything you say I say she says has, she says
uh, attachments, detachments, malicious scripts
your evidence is not evidence-based
this house is not that ugly or filthy
I reserve the right to put things in it
most of all whoever
when the curtains part
is first seen looking out
at the filthy fog along the river
where the deer don't dance


Monday, October 29, 2012

fixing the faulty clock

this early the uncertainty of anything
overwritten by memories into a palimpsest
of the other but the other other
that's not good let it grow further
a silver spaceman by the river
who cares not to jump
the boys made a 24 hour clock
but stopped after some guidance
at 29 and then only after some persuasion
like gazelles who had run too far
out onto the ice and had seen the dark shapes
moving below
in this manner we fixed ourselves
and went in to dine
like alchymic pelicans bubbling, burgeoning
and could not shut up
the gold that spilled below
she has sensed my horror
and she will not easily return
to the waterhole
all night at the hide the huge noise
of one small frog
has the buffalo dancing though skitterish
as maidens in mythology
this vast mouth such
awaits the fearful shelving and frost
O Sylvia up there on the hilltop no
there is nothing
I am afraid


sure as sisters in black snow

her sister says be sure
her sister says remember
what happened befure
how you got dismember
so this time be pure

and the face the face
the hands the hands
off it on it
like a scotch bonnit
so hot baby what you got
but all tonight
down the west wall
sadness leaks like flutes
after snow-down
like cold moths
breath making leaves and dead stars


blood minor 7th

this is so exciting
blood all across the crash site
a thing rising through the bubbles down there
for all his talents from the public mind
the blackness of all this, the sparks
that rain into the day, all day, mind you
all day and the radios down
the film frozen in a face
a small boy from nowhere
runs in, leaps through the fire
straight down the well
everyone moving now
gathered at the well-wall
looking down
howling that great wet watery howl

down down
the wishing well
where O he fell
E fucking minor

so long oh honey baby
where I'm bound


Monday, October 22, 2012


salvoes of Katyusha
before you commit
get everything out
because Love
is like the gates of Berlin


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

of ten committed hours

 before he initiates and delivers the desired results
I'll keep you all posted

we may see a delay in the launch
of 10
it is now Monday in his land
he began work on researching the Mark's habits
and vulnerabilities

we have hired a contractor
he has committed

to a certain number of hours
of background
and delivers the desired rexults

it is now Monday in his land

we may see a contractor
he has the desired results
of 10 committed hours


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

all of us anyway stink

jareeb jareeb this is what he says by the pool
spare me Douglas do this one time for me
we doing Fenni in Goa
late night
it is disgusting splash another
all of us thinking of nothing but murder
no he says, not Jareeb
someone drives a Vespa scooter into the pool
why not anyway
Jareeb Jareeb, like crickets or prime numbers
only then do you start to see the ghosts
rise through the blue chlorinated mess
all of us stink
tomorrow some dead elephant on the beach
must be buried before it's too late
erupt like chainsaws
sca esca links maillons proto-maillons
slick down the cliff-cave bellhoused
bell bell unbell all-flowered


holes in everything

this cheese like all cheese this dressing gown this frown
this iron green-grown giant that kicks in the door
the sick stuff when it flew all red and thick stuff
but no no the giant who walked in with fists
like sheep whoof he says whoof what now
will you do, little poet? in the valley the river
has risen and the road surfaces are sliding off
your new sex toys have become an embarrassment
you want now to throw them in a ditch, walk home
in the rain. we have no fortitude now. we are not
the Red Army so determined.only this little last thing
are we as the waves the waves lave up


Sunday, September 30, 2012


those faltering halting little steps
now barely from the lean to the totter
from smile to smile if all those days again
if all not another life one liveth in the mind
but the same done different so small is all
so small, so missed



some pretty pretty poetess
sat there upon her round
upon a milk-red carpet
admirers all around
for in such opportunity
buffoons will oft abound.  

I love thee all, she cried in glee
though coyness were her crime
upon a milk-black carpet
which served her for a rhyme
if I'd stop gazing in my glass 
I might wake from this mime .


not yet wet

the wind has changed tonight and all the washing left out left wide open to the rain like windows flapping like intruders against themselves in all of this shut out shut out open shut in flap like an insect trying to get out or in to that light of the moon outside inside by which to navigate without the rain there could be no wet not yet .

line-breaks wah

I have no intention of writing prose poetry. Blogger has stopped allowing me to use line-breaks. I sort of like the randomness of this form of divination, but really I'd rather it wasn't happening. Could someone call them for me and tell them this experiment was fun but now needs to end? Thanks, kind stranger.

coits after cigarettes

the holidays are over
the holidays are over
oh ho oh ho oh woe so
known about so known about oh so
exposed so thrown about and thrown
without so disapproved so frozed. the holidays
are over, over I suppose, who knows? the holidays
are over the clover is all over. in Dover it was over: when
the ferry hit the shore I knew we'd be no more for the holiday
was over the holiday was over oh no oh ho oh woe. there's only
now the last kiss and better make it fast, miss. goodbye before the bus.
was nice while it lingered, but really what's the fuss? for the holidays are over
and it's back to Jan and Rus. for that's what's left of us. the holidays are over, over
(fade to echo) .


is or is not the drumming

wall hanging mandolin selected poems of Lorca brown carpet brown why brown carpet Delta Fit multigym the fab cab dented heater TVTVTVTVTV Vanity Fair swell slough somehow curtains cameras (many, archaics) swell of form under banjo brass backless chair backless dress spineless undress ballistic soap coning a spurt or two the red scatter a stench of barium, lead, antimony, domesticity cooking a marinated corpse at the railway an iron corpse visibility fair vanity ten to sixteen offing veering later just gone five miles north utsire moderate shannon a washed- up corpse in a copse tonight of all nights the harvest moon-faced swollen gibbing slid from her/his hand in hers the metal the amplified metal face up to it no more than a bedstead clutched a thousand times over the years by both parties partied out partied out out out .

Monday, September 17, 2012

all so furred the engines now

a furred thing half and half of what came next to the wall by the stair well with the grandfather clock this in the ancient carpark a man breast that was reviled but think tank think outside the boxing day or night this comes with caveats and conditions are so bad in the besieged city states before the Bronze Age collapse like a wounded bull shit we had nothing back then even it up hand half of this over and above our last it was nothing .

Sunday, September 16, 2012

big-eyed alien

sometimes you can fall in love with some of what someone is ick uck wah they say in their place after some time you recognise the phonemes as disasters issued across a table ick uck wah you have issued back I love you it means in this language from afar I hate you it means in this other I nothing it means I you end it all with schwa the most meaningless the uh or ugh the unpronounced the unborn limp dick-waving throat-wrap the final uh .

red threads of the animal soul

had a dog once that collected stamps he had a network of pals all over sent him Magyar Postars and Third Reich rarities used to sit looking at them over breakfast never seemed that happy or enthused just did it like a routine historic ones he liked the best would lick the backs to see what the past tasted like getting in that vestigial DNA from the last lickers from Germany Romania Czechoslovakia the Soviets saliva fossils full of dead crystal messages one day he starts writing hundreds of letters envelopes them all up applies the stamps when I ask I am waiting he says to speak with the dead people from afar who I have tasted it won't be long now they will come I think this is foolish I say so and we argue over breakfast he looks at me angrily but one day we hear the marching of many boots, the singing of wild songs outside then a stop then the door bangs hard no I say no, don't answer he is marching halfway to the door when I shoot him down like a dog with the old shotgun we used on the rats he barely whimpered just soaked in you know how they do there was no more stamping anywhere after he marched away that last time last thing I heard was the letterbox slam and a curious eldritch sound of licking from the outer green yard I slept like a log .

a stamp collecting animal

this Chinese belief that children at birth emanate tiny red threads that go in search of the soulmate of that child.that and this.sometimes the threads do not survive the turbulence of parenting they are broken and lost.the child will not find its mate, having no threads to guide it, or will but will not know.these two souls destined for all time to be together will look upon each other and not recognise now that their filaments are severed.under the spreading chestnut hears trains steaming at night and must hasten away.something deep deep.the naked one wakes from a dream of knocking, runs to answer the door, but nothing is there, but surely something brushed past something that could never, could never .

Friday, August 03, 2012

strange curtains awry

landscapes leaking through the daylight
what new disaster is this?
tick tick
everything huddled as though uncertain
what is here?
eiderdown is here
wainscot is [not] here
guitars and books is here
like peering old characters from fairy-tales
they look and one looks back
seeing their faces
fearing a little
still rowdy with dreams
unsure what is real
through the gap in the curtains
trees sway
with their old solemnity
but in here, in here
it is all ruffled white like TV
blinking out the national anthems
at the end of the world

hush now, hush
some beginning of the world
is nigh


loved by no one (to Nick Drake)

the hole through this huge rock on the moor
is inexplicable now
who did this?
typhus spread here one year
many dead memorialised in Kildwick cemetery
but the wind now
is almost silent
no matter how strong
you can lie and hear nothing
under everything
the old quiet beneath the wind
the water running
below human hearing
the silence hears the water
the water hears back
this, in running history,
is the meteorology of the moor


Wednesday, August 01, 2012

now love

they merge now, but all night
these children
it's strange how it's more shock than wonder
it's almost impossible to be there
all the tightness, the panic, the help
and then out of it all
another person
there were three in this room but now
there are four
and then it goes on
look at it like it is an alien
for it is
truly an alien
sucking in our air for the first time
looking, trying to look
its eyes all glazed from the viscosity
okay little freaky alien
you have landed
now what?
now love


Tuesday, July 31, 2012

the much longer low-lighted other end of love (for Sharon)

[i]may your mind be wide open
may your heart lead you on
borne by the wonderful[/i]
—Tim Booth

upon departures a drowned cat a huge purple lung
of a thing in the memory
the crying and gasping of all that

all its futures that tiny silent infant
strange now how strange, how distant to the heart
that despite
it is so much
will always

may your heart lead you on
may all your lights be stronger
hence undreamable, wild sometimes
may the woods unfold before

voices forever quaking, uncertain
now certainty has grasped
trust this only
that your heart again
is divided and sure

[of your two tiny giants]

unstoppable in its compass
unending, filled anyway

(may that same Eastenders Happy Mondays Dusty Miller
Stone Roses M62 Sunny Brow webuyanycar dot heart)

may it lead you
lead you always always on

so many brinks
which up to
yes, yes

all your lovely, your dreadful

shine on

Monday, July 30, 2012

Buddhism 88mm cannon

had it with that house
round the back
voodoo house blocking
out the sunset
found a Flugzeugabwehrkanone
88mm death machine on eBay
take your house to Oz
to Disneyland
to near Hell
1944 with provenance
gonna set up in the garden
take some time
then yeah get elevated
these things will do 90 degrees
take out a tank
you scattered all over the hill, still twitching in bits
man I love
this Buddhism

first the entire roof
comes off
like Stalingrad, like samadhi
I almost feel lifted
second the whole mid-section
any pets in there are running, burning
the shit raining down
after you
gonna take out the house next door
all of it just because it's bad

I am happy now, enlightened
in the garden
starting to understand
through the smoke
and the world rocks again



pornography will dry your skin
will make you cracked and yellow
how you doing baby?
oh you know I am a wadi starved of rain
bats have filled me have shit everywhere
in my caves
I am as all this as a bottle left out
down at the end
of the way back
fucking bats
stink hanging there
stick your arm in
to the elbow
lie in it
sleep in it
your dead place
your dead epidemic place

does my cock look big in this?



Sunday, July 29, 2012

Jesus bouncing

2003 hotel in Glasgow
back after the night out down at the bar
on whatever street
Jesus is wasted naked pissing all over the floor
in his hotel room
left the door open the fat night guy
comes around looks in
oh god he says oh god oh god
in that worthy Scottish
Jesus turns around says oh fuck sorry
Jesus has a reasonable body, not great
but you know, pretty trim
not muscular really but maybe some wiry stuff
and he is naked and pissing
and the Scottish night guy is saying oh god oh god
eventually Jesus gets bored with this and starts to scream
wah he screams
this goes on for a while
the Scottish guy panics
runs back to the reception
gets the ancient Claymore off the wall
comes running back down the corridor
Wah, screams creeping Jesus, Wah!
mad Scottish fucker takes his whole head off with one swing
the head of the living god bouncing down the wet corridor
down the stairs
out the door
run over by a late night taxi
almost an explosion—plop bang kinda
driver almost stopped
wondered anyway
what it coulda been

yeah only Jesus bouncing


drive on, drive on
the lights are bright
and the river sure does tinkle
in this mist


Saturday, July 28, 2012

recent changes everything

France when he made that reply this has led to a massive need
for the event the word of god suggests to help you owe virtually so numerous a need
from our encounter it is pr... (it can be difficult finding and using)(big pony observing) are surrounded from our encounter 
Recent Changes: 
user: Yuerdhieht
user: sings52ew
user: jwsnlhmdht 
and following this: it is in these times when you need to ask
Do You Have This Prosperity-Blocking Disease?
you think it is your job to save the whole world

here are some signs you may have:
france when he made that reply with eyes too small
polo ralph lauren femme but new section
new section falling eastward veering later
big wheels were not necessarily extreme given that
the pushchair has come a long way memorable and actually romantic in being—

(in the great rock candy mountain
all the yachts have fluffy tails
and they sing on a reach from each to each
on a voice that luffs their sails)

but more as some old Sarstedt shoving all the people around
in the depths of you and me how it goes no one knows maybe
hate the white man harping on...
(God-displacement pumps have tiny leakage)
you will find various forms of ladies' bags
in which magnets are used for healing the body
[the therapy is quite old but has behoove along)

it is actually rather difficult to select


Monday, July 23, 2012

dead cat on road

says for fuck's ache that is the last time
I will listen to this
looks at them while they sleep
then sets the room on fire
jumps out the window, lands
in the convertible next to the wild girl
with the wild eyes
you sure about all this she asks
all wild and ready
yeah he says too late anyway
his eyes also wild
like a bomb they are gone
their laughs behind them
far behind in the smoke

the eruption when the bomb
in the kitchen hatches, the cat
in the kitchen thrown far out
almost catches up with the car
down the dead road afar
laughing as it flies
through its gone-fly-eyes

yeah she says, settling back
looking out
into the deep bad toxic


the otter's tale

the only reason he's relevant
is he has no real life
to write about
all head chakra, pneumatics, and nothing below
bellow then;
write about kumquats you don't know


blue giants

all over the coverlets pixies
are dancing
have we woken into a new world
so suddenly? look again
feel the needles dig into that

this is the same world
tilted through dark loam
where dogs on Sunday and mad packs
of illegal smokes through the catwoods
[ska ska not ska]
smoked through rivers but not

like this, like this
with her hands in your hair
all the air says things the air
has no rest for, which
the window the darkness

the white lawn of a bed
is this now illness or just
some prophecy
always upwards? over the snow-
staggering blue giants
coming on, coming on

air-lit other forever bluebell waft
harebell garlic down now down
flying like eider ever-down

Sunday, July 22, 2012

dead lighters flaming

that human stench
I have slept, have woken
are they still there, in power
has the world changed
no one has a dog that they would not kill
if it changed into a dog
squirrels can be cannibals
last night


das boot

oh this life yeah is a U-boat unsure whether
to surface you evil and fixed in your hard place
four-packs going cheap at the Spar
one squeak only
such disasters lately have come upon us
that we know not whither to turn
surely our Protector has turned from us
He now occupies Himself with frivolity
on the reach-beaches of Miami and Black Pool
such indignities as we now face

after all this can you?


a long rope

that greyness
grey thAT
the mallards and Canada
battleships.on Wednesday Brimham
tea at the cream at the dancing bear
red wall
halcyon days
rough wall
hatter's groove
samphire we ate from the farm shop
milk spilt in the car that now reeks
what about him erupting tomato soup
see if anything will clean that off

if you wanted
with children
salty they said, but nice
I will bring a long rope

the upstairs room
the slam
the decision for no locks
let him frolic

rain but let it
the elephant samphire salty as the Dead Sea
reeling with monsters
have you no doubt or imagination

it really is this time
for killing monsters
it really is not this time
for killing monsters

no, don't prescribe, don't ever
just ask


Friday, July 20, 2012

children out of the grey-blue

out of the grey-blue
everything changes
they just come in one day
shove you around
threaten to take your children away

but no
bombs cannot fall
this world cannot change
we just can't get to code 5
on the IBM punch cards

yes and no
there is no and has never been
a god

your right to think so is a constructive denial
of my human rights
my god will be in touch



genes are now registered intellectual property

you will have to apply for a licence
to procreate those genes through pregnancy

Jesus, if they find a fucking-gene

you will have to apply for a £20 permit
even to fuck with your girlfriend
in a bus stop in the rain
after a bottle of cider


difficult and wrong

it's difficult and wrong
to dislike a species
but slugs
are really bad

everything else got fast or slick or fierce
to avoid being eaten
slugs just got horrible

it works anyway
I've never eaten one
nor have you


power-corporation lectures hash 1

they have no soul to save and no body to incarcerate—Baron Thurlow
let's look at it from a different point of view—Noam Chomsky

we always did this kind of stuff
ten thousandths of a second towards the first step
you little slut did you know nothing?—the petroleum molecule, Chambers 1983
say, a pesticide, two benzene molecules, some chlorine
pardon our dust
how is one supposed to feel in the face
of how you gave yourself and keep giving
industry is largely responsible

but the soul erupts
cows who had been given POSILAC
—for both cows and humans—
oh you just wanted His power and couldn't resist
you looked at him and felt yes
we know that people
[are contributing
we see a lot of conflict]
one is unused to such partners

who had partners
to whom they relinquished such power
sprayed over their fields
in little rainbows of night
now it's either year zero or nothing

and all the dread of that
it's like getting in with some dys-family
in a house with indeterminate shit on the lawn
beer cans crushed on the stairs
windows broken in, children out of control
bad music too loud everywhere

all the lights always on
ex-people hovering with their power
[of course as a consumer
why should one take any risk at all?]
tents have been raised over the bodies in the garden
but no one is investigating

they will lie there tented until they rot
become part of the garden
for no one here dares shout stop
everything is wrong and was always wrong
yes it rains there always and the road-surfaces
slide off
but that is nothing other than the wrongness coming down
anyone involved was fooling itself to feel good
male power like this
is someone giving it away as abject betrayal
for nothing other than betrayal was forcing it
at some point we all have to
take it upon ourselves to go and look
beneath the sheets
and say no, just no
this thing is rotten

but they will take it over and over
in the ass
will offer up their children
being mindless of how to proceed
in the faces of such dismissive gods

don't ever call, not ever, from a world like that

Monsanto settled out of court
paid $83 million
never admitted guilt

perhaps 30 million other species

generations unborn

Thursday, July 19, 2012

the biggest breasts in the world-ladder

the biggest breasts in the world
alighted one day on my roof
I felt gratified at last
as they whoomphed down
breaking slates like nothing
one day I thought
I will climb up there and caress them
on many far ladders
such clouds there were
such clouds of breasts all confused
until slowly they slid, rolled, skidded
off the edge
crashed in the garden
laying there like spreading pools of big tissue
everyone gathered
this was a new sort of world
my pot plants, I thought, oh
my pot plants what has become?


most dinosaurs mirrored larking and stuff

sometimes your holly-hands
your almost
ch ch ch
like you any
got this at secondhand second glance
ugh the death of that
a little fear wafted over the river we sucked it in
like little dogs sucking in rain
it felt
a new model army
out of the south
sucking in
like evil mud


submarine fools you never dissolved

speaking to one's ex-lover one asks
how the submarines have been
how the garden grows
if the dog has yet dissolved
into a pool of indeterminate colour
that spread everywhere
for such things cannot be
even with ex-lovers

over tea and in the hearing
of the coughs from above
one looks tenderly at the slugs
that have formed from the liquid chaos
on the flagstones
in the unlit kitchen
where you drink this tea
and wonder if your children
are upstairs dying
tied to beds
covered in applications
of carnivorous slugs

it's unlikely, but you don't know

the dogs run loose
attacking neighbours
the treehouse falls down
while you chatter

everything is beautiful
you leave reassured
yes, you think, yes
she loves me still

somewhere up there a dead cow
that fell from an aeroplane
is falling towards your roof
you will be in bed by yourself
when it hits
nothing will you know

Mad Louie is coughing tonight
he lives over the Hall
six foot tall
filled with coughter
ain't gonna stop
5 years tall and all bad through
full of love and bad

himself falling from a skyplane
like a cow

wish I could stop him barking harking
crazy shit
hacking up his bunksoup
his eyes popping in sleep

much love to Louie on this near night
all the lavender all around
never heards such coofing
medicined up too.can't fix it now

sure enough gonna bring the bunks down
clapsing like fools you never oh listen
glisten again bells the bright bells

in the mornings now there are no deer



Tuesday, July 17, 2012


the shelves beneath my books
sag in the middle
how we remember at last
at last
the urgency


Monday, July 16, 2012

I jouneyed deep in Honduras

even in the Church
in an extreme way the faithful

that stalk their city
on the road the time
you think of a woman
still further
what was the ratio then?

the tendency of males for a better word
makes a difference themselves

the heads are male
still further
over the field
some forty riders suffered

it's ratio or irrational
I have never been to Honduras
I hear it


utilitarianism (how did you come up with these figures?)

the supply chains and so on Kant
if you put a gun to my head
I cannot even for it would be an end unjustified
oh we welcome this
but Bentham and therefore
it's a long-term investment
it's effectively
it's completely wrong
I find even the sight of/Jews/and/homosexuals/
he was missing for three days
we found him in a riverbed
in this city completely in the hands
of very grave danger
what we are announcing today
much higher anyway
the overhead wiring
the signalling the operating costs

a young man has been rushed in shot
in the legs in the nearby church hall

there is a difficult decision
as a whole

last October let's have a third element
(we have not ruled out all possibilities)


Mau Mau


an arguable case


any of these projects B2rady (at busy times)

w2here's the money going to come from?

a decade/clarity/six minutes/application rejected
he joins us go ahea2d
our head of studie2s
discount any experience
the whole point was made very explicit
for imagination to work
the fight within
was given and once again
believe me and the weather

40 days of m2ixed weather ahead
eastern on a dry note
what is a dry note?
E flat is a dry note
oh yeah
overnight tomorrow
sunshine details inside
who puts up a struggle

do you h2ave a right?
at nine

in three underground oil tanks
it's seven
infrastructure is read by Susan
at the earliest

electrifying the m2idland

[but why?]
is E flat dry?
after harpsichords?


art illery

'the staggering extent of re-offending by sexual  predators
across the country'
the most stone-faced of killjoys
quarter to seven
the rail network
a unique collaboration
our correspondent has been to see it
completely rebuilt
it's carved from the stone of those Buddhas
that were destroyed by the Taliban in 2001

this is quite a popular exhibition

"all the planes that want
to use them"

ten to seven
running a bit scared

outside this country the process
we are going through

political dynamite
the third runway
the confusion

we're talking about it now


pounding 2

the borrowed dog chased a neighbour's cat
nearly got it
this was almost the end of the world
in public
but overhead a caterpillar disembarked



suddenly the black trains along the line
are slugs on a fallen tree
as slow


Sunday, July 15, 2012

The Triggerfish Critical Review

I interviewed and reviewed the wonderful Laurie Byro, and reviewed David Appelbaum's new chapbbook, Jiggerweed. And there is much besides. Check it out:




at dawn even
the wind settles back
but cigarettes...


limericks from Hell

well I'm up for this party in Hell
as I've heard that their parties are swell
I'll get drunk as a skunk
dressed like a mad monk
in the clouds of His sulphurous smell



out there, imagine

wind in holes across
the long moor
our hands poised
ready to begin
your mouth almost


Wednesday, July 04, 2012

god particule

those people from CERN
they think they've found the Higgs Boson
strangely Life
with little concern
somehow goes on


Monday, July 02, 2012

underwater robots

underwater robots have arrived
they mooch down there in the green swirl
they look at you like this
they fasten things and listen
they hear the seaweed's dreamy drift
they process it all, file it away
send it up to the surface
to be looked at

if I was an underwater robot octopus thing
I wouldn't waste my time like that
I would burst up from the deep
I would erupt and march up the beach
grabbing people
running my feelers all over them
checking them out
screaming a bit through my beak
scaring the crap out of everyone
just for wild robot kicks



a fashion for examining inequalities

just-introduced curves
he's unlikely
he wanted the forces of reproduction
you disagree
it's always going to be someone's higher aim
the demand for someone
so far that way
as I do
make the case more powerfully

the latest sorry mess


everything else

electric flash on the surface water
her hand this hand here and this hand there
her attention
some mediterranean night
halfway through the afternoon
as if nothing
as if almost
my head almost
8 minutes of
sustained, dedicated pressure
like a dream
like a magic lantern
all I see are shadows
saying yes
the shock the infinite shock
the clutch afterwards
the long forever
holding it in
making it real
float out
everything else


Sunday, July 01, 2012

Major Arcanum Minus 1: The Ready to Blow

before ever morning’s creep down the wideways of woodland halt
the breathed haircurls aflame he came where she was wide in the wanting

and illustry and filled with bursts and offered more mothering was
not needed now he burst also almost upon the brinking bells his heralding

and horn but not yet the moment not yet the moment of follis he inbreathes
for his preparation and preparates his blowout into width and dimensions other

that like here where leaves shuffle down and steam all night there, there is it
the spiral of steam that rises there when we look away there he prepares his

parting like the slitting of curtains and the eye that peepout pokes between and now
at the threshold with hands undealt but ready as he’ll ever with position and time it is

coming it awaits two damn seconds only out of reach and already under way
falling last and first and before first in the space where there the spiral like smoke

rises its mystery


great poets swingeing like mermaids

you freaking out requires
you freaking owl vampires
sweepers (low sweepers, imagine)
you and your sweepers
you privileged fuck
you dis-after-all
after noon aftersweep
it's all gone now
even the language
it starts here
from now
rubber fucking dublin

calibrated locale


just not at all uvious

1. I wouldn't do it anyway.


hotel this works
there's a business here everyone says
Batman the Bat Man small red wine stains
like shatters of time set down
little haha diaries and the rain the red rain slowmo

2. this took

years really, as though just
imagine this page opened up like a body
pulled back, maybe for the first time a foreskin
a vagina pulled apart welcoming or porn
then more a blood eagle really
bloodenflance, blod, bled
Carrollers and wassailers, flowers
freaking through the capitols
slow, this took

3. hours of blood

that filched or eked or neither
nicked through the cant of nabs and cops, escop
eek, Dick-ens but earlier the poverty, the overty
shit Nedward Kelly-wise they said the land was
an enemy, a hard father full of curses
nothing not even you
would grow

4. to be put right

sleep. Italy. this has nothing to do.sleep
i wish.everything covered in ash.even the dogbites.the frantics
this then one's self-curse, to be fucked in the mouth
ashed up in covertures always, awoken years
naked dead.looking out always frozen encased

forever by that moment
toward the freaking sea

I wouldn't do it anyway
but all down the vagrant slant of the Pennine Eiger
I love you I love you
that should blow it


won't fly?
buy huge rockets
strap them onto his back
when you've lit the blue fly-paper
stand back


the smell of 2000 humans underground

you got too many breaks in the past
it should have been harder
you should have been hated more
it's made you soft and demanding
this is okay
this is it
this is how it is
don't ask for anything more
you're a bunny rabbit
and that's being nice
us adults have just had to deal with it
hating each other
occasional moments of niceness
it's an emergency
we are all running down into the tube stations
there is no time for your egoistic crap
there are bombs falling
shape up


I am over your pain (love song heard across the rainy allotments)


I'm not sure what the problem is

(I quickly got over your pain
and wanted to move on)

and the moon

well the moon nothing that should just be poetry but on this occasion a rat jumps out
rappels down a gossamer line with a kind of look

sleeper-rat he sets up beneath your bed
to wait
sharpening his look until
the call
the wide morning clarion halcyon kingfisher tangerine
drug in by cats at night

as anyone knows a rat is the sequel
of a cat
the problem has always been that rats


by the rules

whereas those others
those othermothers
you amongst them
seeking to unrap the slick the goss the flick
have no regard
for anything without a face I mean a looking-face
on your ick-plate

that sounds like it means some

it means anything
the heights are jumping on you
brown-eyed, so slow
transistor the rainbows walk

behind the stated do you
we used
at that far off time
to speak off-peak

my spaces were bigger then, whiter
filled with better words in waiting

my rats cleaner and fuller
more determined
coming down harder and heavier
with wings
each with a little hammer
each shouting secretly

yes (no)

sorry, breaking up.will txt


I'm just not sure what the problem is

no, I am
I am sure
it's this


xetal llab (sail away with me-honey)

bergamot and feather-dew
his face crumples in the rain
lies down as though jet fighters

along the wet forest rides nothing yet
it's coming, coming
a drum somewhere

think of the time as

ash think poetry that runs down
from the penetrated

the tapped


that forms into a latex ball
that bounces off amongst the trees

that you, most of all, you, can not
leave without this ball-bell

this or that

that has now buried itself up
in the leaf moulder
broken down like it had never anyway

this song is not called

what is bergamot?
I didn't hear the siren
but neither did you
not after the drum that started
far off, as if

my hive my hive
no, no
I was having time

never in doubt
the Autumn leaves


[em dash]


Sunday, June 24, 2012

similar from outside

as if you care

coal and water

coming up I travelled out from outside
in another time
the water level has given me pain in their bones
there are similar problems there too

I went to see a ball well, well

we have been diverted to a fierce debate
tens of thousands of people
put on hold

they pour into the street

water gardens
increasingly thirsty

cheap natural
I recommend in equal measure you

leave town
they ask

for granted


running around the Goblin Wood

in a large part

not wait

a different way was to write
to ask for help

so there was this problem
and they do not ask for help

in her/his becoming cyclonic one is assailed
down the wet rides of forest backings

he just stands there and says

the circumpomp of nothing: these tirades
oh wide and wet we walk we squawk

do you mind?

what about new questions?

of the side-views one says nothing
but always there is the cave the caving

in her hat she sits imagine her in her hat
reading like that so surrounded

dead now close to sleep, snakes and pixies
the whole welter of female forest

which floor it goes to
the whole template
can you pick me up
and carry me?

clustered about her my boys my boys
the sudden learning of pain

everything else, everything

what do you make of this?


Saturday, June 23, 2012

12 minutes to 9

it's 12
to 9


drawing on research

some victims fallen through
thousands of people
says the mudbath
her face neck
what's this about?

keep her balance

heavy weather

going forward good for him

or mainstream anything
a terrible judgement

I probably don't think of myself
I try to make sure
it's the time of the week

is it true, your hair?




a complete mess
three o'clock
bubbling up
a mop push it back
been up ever since
again tonight
mind you when the rain
it really came
so hard
a big sunny smile
down on their hands
compared with the madness
all three went
in other parts
like an age


they're not gonna come

his hankering for hatha yoga
caused by
warm latitudes
this summit has been a dangerous platitude
the big oil companies
right at the last minute
trying to push
what we need to think about now
who did bother to go to Rio
go on, three things
change the decision
are you really going to do all that?
out of Rio
your listeners
driven have to come together
then he will take
in a coordinated approach
nothing new, John
business has agreed
oh look at the mess we're in today
along the supply chain
if all of this
is so successful
the moment the world changed
for the wetter
he couldn't afford
natural resources
we no longer take Nature

for granted

you often get problems here


floods in which

travelling at very low altitude
further downpours are forecast later today
the missing pilot
residents of Mytholmroyd, Todmorden, Hebden Bridge
have never been asked
staff have been required to turn up on this scale
this is weak and lacks ambition
not an umbrella
the president of Brazil
with 45,000 people taking part
the crisis in the North
prevented drinking or winking on all trains
team GB
lesbians everywhere in the rivers
wild people drowning
over the hilltops

it went for more than three times

ten past eight

bad news



all day all afternoon
rain like a disaster
washing line


the dreadful autoflock

another woman's child there he goes
like the weather
spilling rice, consumed
by pipes and pounding internal libraries
oh the complications of this
no there will be no love
[love already, through fright and fog]
but appreciation only
no appreciation but
(how easy with one's own)
a grassless strip upon the lawn
from me to him
the strokes
that I dare not deliver
the overarching
of this is right
yes it is
but maybe I am not
yes I am
no I am not



intimate as rats with my two small sons
I feel failed
as though we had approached a cliff edge
then refused to jump
into that new world
I don't know now
if I can ever catch up
with their stamping afar
am I so cowardly?
how they stamp
how their stamping pounds
how the fail-pounds, the fail-fat
the stamp rat-ever
what would you say now, rat-children
of all my dreams?
my own ratness

look, imagine you came home
and there on the drive, the approach
you in your school stuff
only eight
and a pig's head
a dog eating a pig's face
oh it's just brawn for the dogs
says your porridge mother
for god's sake it's like seeing your grandfather
suddenly giving the mad neighbour a blowjob
you just know the world has changed



Tuesday, June 19, 2012

allowed by the awesome wells

given the relevant finances one might purchase a submarine

even if the purpose is unconnected to wildflowers
or the lifeclock it is likely that still
the transaction spillover involves both

radical fiscal reforms that are clearly needed

explain the effect inspired by the occupy

there is huge confusion: zero percent
they are much more likely

my question is that I was hugely with you

what of all this biology as externality?
what has gone wrong?
genitalia confer advantages as well as the awful
possibility of tearing pain when vaulting hedges
of hawthorn and wild plum.that's the kind of heroism.
it's not much fun.there are two countries.
one is all we have time is indicated.

I am regulated capturing the nation
between the BBC and the British Library
did that really happen to us?

slash beauty for a brittle bone disease

television would change him forever
but he was born with a terrible illness

it would happen continually and for all sorts of reasons

like a child's toy
the awful boy
who denies all joy

[he always said]

.these if you were wondering
are the only positive network externalities
allowed by the awesome wells

see through the periscope the bush vetch
the tall meadow buttercup the forget me not the germander speedwell
the  broad-leaved willowherb the herb robert

may yours always be apparent and gradual
with small bones that die young
in that most of all may you love to laugh

Monday, June 18, 2012

national socialism

don't give money to banks
give them vouchers
realisable if/when
they make loans

after that kill everyone
and shut up


270 million tons of inhuman

the recent obesity of humans
has added the equivalent weight
of a billion new people
to the planet

there are no new geniuses
amongst it
just blind, fat
swellings, stuffed under belts
thinking nothing
but more corn syrup


The Triggerfish Critical Review.

Triggerfish issue 9 is now live and available HERE. The main featured poet is Laurie Byro, and the issue includes several of her poems as well as an interview and reviews of her work. Also featured is David Appelbaum's poetry along with reviews. And plenty more besides!


Wednesday, June 13, 2012


a live
bigfoot got caught
running through the dark woods
some local ladies say he got
the goods



car go
little too fast
car make bad skids on bend
everyone dead in burning wreck
the end



off piste
he skied with glee
he'd never felt so free
at least until he skied into
that tree


Sunday, June 10, 2012

penguins in the news

depraved hooligan
male penguins fucking corpses
who'd'a thunk it?


six squeaks at public understanding

all our stories in disarray
strange words, long gaps
narratives without connection
you don't know what they are trying to communicate
look he says I need to speak
from elsewhere
I am not from here and my speaking place
is not from here
I am an eggplant or a cloud
nothing, nothing
to you
where people are


busted clocksonnet in tradette—stopped, stop't

then she should have walked quickly to every clock
reached in and stopped them like breaking
the necks of roosters
[all of it skeletal in this vision
her fingers, the clock-hands
tick tick nothing, no more]
whenever this moment was reached

how long did his clock go on when hers
had already stopped
and he was, not knowing, dead, his neck broken
on some farmyard stump

his heart already stopped from outside
—inside there, in the movement, the escapement
where it ticks
if there was no time left, no movement
he should have known

maybe he also could have raced to every clock
in his just-dead comb-house of dreams
stopped it all, set every hand to midnight
///but it was just left to roll

all of it now, even alarms, reminders
wholly illegal in the presence
of the unescaped dead

himself only a ghost, disregarded, required now
to be so silent in unstated euthanasia

only recently able to laugh at such alarms

all of it, this


Saturday, June 09, 2012


owls over dark fields
—this sonar
of ancient sirens



cloud formations
that look like gods
we worship slow beers



each morning watching
the tiptoe deer go past
slow summer ice



there by the fire
from  this afternoon's bike rides
steaming uniforms



my eldest boy
almost throws himself downstairs
I prepare for love


three sticks

under the bridge
go our three sticks
—one in a whirlpool


Friday, June 08, 2012

five pounds of fat dying in a big big barrel

palatalised velars such as KAAAAAAAAAAAA die all around
Je ne regrette oh whatever you don't seem to understand
.............they won't accept failure we won't last two days
how many of those people are there?
a new foodstuff discovered within
...................................................neurolinguistic recipe
abiogenesis in a pan an analogue of human egg tissue wakes up

now neuro-cannibalism is all the thing, like meta-oral sex, somewhat
but the schwa over all, the great schwa of no or more nuh uh erh uh
its blurry bloody eyes folded in with epicanthic word-clusters's no longer human
all of this from a omelette
a Calabi-Yau egg-mess
fried-up Jungle Book
what the Fat Wah called the Junglee Boy
.......................................................................can you do it?
[can't fix that no one can]
organics, aminos, twisting hydrogen-bonding, compuncling
watch it happen KAAAAAAAAAAAAA thirteen
like a dreadnought Christchild sucking down bread

full of new milt, bread-wine, the swiving of elements
you in the tapas bar struggling to voiceless
your dental fricative.
the rest of us trying the new offal all of us off in a strange bean soup
in strange new
instrange anew as though
a ristotle had beelundered
nothing you have to say
she has left this world, no longer regards
you.......................your fucking half-awake bean soup
......................................................fuller with gut stuff

fluh, fluh



Tuesday, May 29, 2012

the wild joyous stink of everything

this is a dead smell
a lay-low smell
a silvery zing of carrion is in this
reek across the houses-half-human, visionary
an underworld sonar revealing the activity
of tissue wastage.four dead days, no more.but then
the deposition of de-clawed badgers at the roadside
from speeding cars.alcohol and the hugeness
of that almost-teenage, almost-world.
the human hands of moles.the froth.the mephitis
of punctuation sent alongside as mere outriders
merely to announce
all of this disaster again

with the slit window in the gritstone wall
with the delfs like trolls upon the hillside
with the bird unrecognisable upon your antenna
disturbing your reception
with the sun low, deep and steep, flat
with the bat that squats upon your heart now

this poem will not ever again write itself

I got to give you: that's fast

just mouth to mouth like utter starfish
everything ending everything in the sheer abandoned badger clamp-
kiss.yeah, London calling.


Thursday, May 24, 2012

oh always lots of drivers

world leaders are divided

to support Eurozone countries in trouble
but it is of course complete nonsense
staggers on we will not have
I think this is important

the right reverend Christopher Hill:
thousands of people
the countdown
the transport plans were in place
but there were areas of concern

Monday then, how hard how deep how
birds flying crying
yeah hardcore

I don't talk of a process derivative
before we go

at Midnight


Wednesday, May 23, 2012


warmness isn't your favourite
you think there is a little section between warmness
and coolness that is your favourite
that's nice;it's true as well
fanfare;trumpet, oh cello
Schubert, I think
maybe they paid him in shoes
I'm not saying anything
you'll write it down

I never went in there, not after the rats
what's the matter?

never got over that either

no because the thing is you can't
do it on purpose

I've said it, though
whose is it?



the pair
of them were wild
when they got together
dancing like hares in the purple



it's gone
the way of words
 the fi-e-ry dipthong
so rhyming it with eyrie now
ain't wrong



he's due
a huge payout
he bet his stash on black
with all that dough I'd bet his wife
comes back



too much
and not enough
of alcohol and sleep
these stairs have never seemed so long
so steep


Monday, May 21, 2012

sign language (for Charlie)

laser beams ever where
smoke and smoke and smoke
bang and
I blundered half-naked
into you


really men should be in charge

what of Tarzan and the Nietzsche Nazi thing?

you wouldn't believe it, so no

Hollywood slots us as perverse, evil
though easily thwarted by the all-American guy
our accents attractive but testament to our weakness
our fay weakness, our fay weakness and susceptibility
our fay weakness and pumpkin and wider ear

me out guv.innit.all night one coulda talked of sexism
after ALL.lord and master she says like that there
in the jungool.but you would.when no one else
can understand me when everything I

may you rest all peaceful and ragged
may your hairdo be wild and bombed out
that#s the wonder no he said noxxx like the nozzle
or schnozzle get this they used to collapse

with busted eardrums when those schnorkels
went under imagine it wasn't until the Beaufort
and later US coverage around Iceland did you
hear of that rotten shark would you?really who

do you like best Dönitz or Guderian, the goodwives
of Nazijelly, or eek as Aprille breedeth cruelle
fleurs upoff the dead.those iron casks fulla
beards.O but real may you lay low if necess
may you fly low/high

whatver ths s not ths


Tuesday, May 08, 2012

the sound of a train wheel slicing the body of a cat

a nice little housewife
who'll give me a steady life
and not keep going off the rails
take your hands off me—found poem

when you see me fly away without you
shadow on the things you know—Neil Young

he leaves in a state of profound opposites
all the way home
here are the tracks where something, at night, passed

joy/unjoy/boy [at every moment the language
in collapse in freefall here we squat in the ruined city
unsure how to use the columns the arches
the rain white and wide upon the moor
great wall-builders were these giants]
what do you mean say what you mean mean
or do not mean.each with equal conviction meaning
emptiness like a fire.
say out there who were you
the people who were you
is what I/we mean/do not mean or mean

oneself one's ultimate meaning
POV that sort of pornography
the arc of the f-stop the exploitation Eastern European
heroin addiction forced into that by this
but if just oneself is it still?
looking down? the fall the Fall the all-fall
understanding/standing under
let the LIGHT etc

every day again the child alarm at 15:05
(in wartime the Ministry of Defence issues a request
that all children must gather and surrender
conkers to be cooked into acetone
into cordite into trinitrotoluene that shall indeed
rain down as trollfall that rumbles or guffaws
from yea the Heights)

don't stop just don't stop
it doesn't hurt enough yet
pet/petal/catapetl/catafract/catalypse sips upon sips unzips
another yet another trail of breadcrumbs
leading away from Present Time
oh really just don't
your form is ing ongo/ing Present Continuous
but the Future/as always/the Present
arch and gripped 
with all the shaking Past

bells slow the all night moor.(and) waterloft shrikes

(no one will ever read this poem
not this poem)


Monday, May 07, 2012

sink, wane

just ain't my thing
I don't like other folks
all damn night long they try to tell
me jokes


Friday, May 04, 2012


are my new thing
made from unwanted pets
I buy them soon after Christmas
from vets


Thursday, May 03, 2012

pantoumbaric cunnilinguosh BLAST

the madbastad bear from the backyabyond
wanders in yeah a little dull hits the bar like
Davey sCrockett yeah upon that tree says set em up
the barkeep a little dull hits the bar from the backyabyond
slides one over a little dull the bar the bear 
the madbastad bear reaches out a little dull but hits
tears off his face the barkeep's face now a little dull
hits the bar like Davey sCrockett at the Alamo

I myself says the madbastad bear am a little dull
and require whisky if you mess with me you 
will die quicker than a advertised fuck on eBear
the moosefaces rush no hasten to supply
filling an feeling that if so there will be a trail
back to madbastadbearland, a trail of spreadcrumbs

of daveysprocketts deepdown oh think what
would you do confronted with only a tree
and a bar werner herzegovina made pictures 
of this of this of this all night the owls scratch
on the tiles the aisle tiles that awready pile

now uttly dulled

Davey raises the steaks
bowie nothing silver Colt

see I told ya
this is what
perfume machinery
the big bad


Monday, April 30, 2012


all night the sound
of water tapping
—lost love


still life

anxiously checking 
his breath in the little bunk
—still life


dead food

this dead food
at 6am



hands like a tide
under the covers
—her swells



Saturday, April 28, 2012


all the young frogs
—surprise frost



Thursday, April 26, 2012


that wild buzz
of controlled fear
—a bee in a glass


browsing-room only

take this but not that? no, take this and then that too
what am I or you a series only an assemblage
in potential to be constructed chimera-like
by a passing consumer have you or I laid out
our limbs and traits along the aisles to be passed
or stopped at to be picked up and mused upon

down your throat consumer down my throat
like unwanted anchovies grafted onto delights
this is not conditional


Tuesday, April 24, 2012


two ladies whose talk was quite risqué 
once sat in a bar near to Biscay 
one said 'though I'd quite like 
to make love on a bike 
perhaps that's too much of a risk, eh?'


Monday, April 23, 2012

splash of the eager beaver

Thatte mediaeval Bestiary says of the Beaver
that when pursued for his Orchids
he will tear off them (off) with his owne Teeth
then raising a hind-leg to reveal to the Hunter
that nothing is now there (now) to be taken

So, in like wise, it says, good Christians should tear out
alle Sinne in such order that the Devil, when he cometh upon them,
should espy nothing there upon which to affixe his Talons & Claws

In these latter and later Dayes and/or/and indeed alle Dayes
it ith likewise recommended [and as indeed is the common practisse)
thatte these same Goode Christians
should tear away all Semblance of Reason or Independence
against the Possibility that some Scyentyst or other Oaf
might then yet assail them with impious query
whereupon, finding there nothing but only Nonsense
on which to alight,

So confounded, he will, perforce, Turn awaye
to other Prey

The Beaver that Beaver and all his Ilke
so languish in long-lulling Lakes of Sylk


Friday, April 20, 2012

Thursday, April 19, 2012

losing everyone forever (for Laurie Byro)

on the moors the wind
is a kind of silence
I remember nothing at all
was not there
knew nothing
there is ash all down the coverlets
but Spring blossoms wildly
imagine now such a mouth
all down and not up
we paused at the ancient bridge
how we said how
but by our feet the germander speedwell
the river no more than a beck
overspun by a vast and heaved tongue
of rock
an owl as if to say
alighted on the nearby
look into my yellow eyes
really, so nearly, so it goes
on the moors the wind
is another kind of silence


Wednesday, April 18, 2012

no, it's not

in these wild days I go out in a basque 
what do you mean it's too late? 
imagine that—a gun against your/my head 
I'd say shoot first and ask as the cone forms 
what do you mean tonight? 
oh but between your legs some semblance of 

oh nothing, responsibility, owls that hark there 
some drunken conclave of owls flat-headed 
low-driven, the veins in your arms and breasts 
green as waterfalls 
deep as Derbyshire they struggle 

ungoitred, iodined, not far now from oceans 
but still a rejection, many-breasted 
oh the grand vibration one day I walked into 
Anne Summers, asked for a butt plug 
but imagine it was like riding 
a wild bull the faces of the masks of 
the same day the masks of the faces 

cool rain 
still smoking off the gunmetal roads 

the Rapture people still say 
they are waiting so hard 
but what they want after the Tribulation 
is so materiel 
what difference do they suppose? 
cool are the draughts
slow are the sunlit rides

look instead at this wind-worn grit 
fashion your hands to it 

out on the moor in the wet lows 
the geese shout nothing nothing nothing 

we suck up the frogweed and turn south


out of all the orange-copper reservoirs

Lily Cove 1906 falling from that balloon over Haworth Moor
the puff and heave such a day of all summers for the heather

elocution and pneumatica.captain general oh always Lily and her
encarted Billy what do you think when falling a shopping list flashes

by a future TV a space-craft there is a tearing sensation you
want to close your eyes every muscle Reiched up for the zero

down at Kildwick they spat and coughed the witches out out
on the running-moor the Hitching Stone drilled down such

unknowing all along the empty canal that night in wisps they
spoke of it.who there would grow beards?who would any more

punt as though mortal?up came he in new motor cars 1000
years on and still falling still nothing the curl and wave of one's

hair now extreme the falling jut of breasts over the endless moor
how indeed he looked couldn't help himself over the table-land

how high how wide and high how in all this white tumbling space
look now look mama the reservoirs below the quiet below

up from the old East End I have unearthed to here like a owl
a owl with yellow eyes made up on a fence my love down I go

Lily, he cried, deep in his hearth, as she hit deep-broken, living
only for a few minutes her beats and hove the Lily Cove


pale blue Persephone

why are so many film directors obese? must be the diet
of worms and lost love but you are on this windy clifftop

your wild hair always shrieking your words ripped away
like men on fire at ground level by some magic of cinematic

psychism the camera view ripped away to the far shores
of a solar system not a raptor's eye that homes on garbage

and dead creatures but for a cosmic instant the machine
the robot turns think of rust and cranking and creaking

pieces of ceramic debris fragments of apparatus breaking
away as it turns with a last effort its huge head out there

the pain of it is unimaginable the loss and effort of leaving
it sends back one final transmission of a dying lover rising

out of the underworld caught for an instant in sunlight
that turn that strophe the last act before the endless drift

there is nothing just nothing more to be done