Wednesday, August 27, 2014

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.) 


Saturday, August 23, 2014

Where has the embedding code gone to?

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

girl from the frontier
girl woman with sixteen new teeth
I have no script
there you are
up in  arms, aloft as balloons

Friday, August 15, 2014

the bad man in the woods

monster with no teeth
even my boys now know Herb Robert
at the waysides
oh look such illegal pickings but how foolish
we have seen tormentil and have picked
by the Iron Age bridge
in the woods
by the river out of Hell
that rushes sometimes black always heavy
germander speedwell and its demons
tiny fleurs have we harvested
for beauty alone, no
also for summer's novelty
and the crushing sense of cloud
down in the valley

we are not allowed here
not on this embankment
this land
where the germander speedwell
lifts the stones in geological time
and the tiny beetles
crawl in our moss-mouths I don't wish
to be violent
but say that again we are not allowed
with such peaceful intent
and such little boys


Monday, August 04, 2014

Catholicon riff

so this meteor crashes into the house
of a priest and everything is broken and ablaze
and his concubine's bed is flying towards
well maybe the sea or maybe just the nearest village
it won't be possible to tell until the next morning
and he himself has landed upon a neighbour's roof
with three dogs and an ocelot
that was weirdly uplifted from a nearby menagerie
owned by a rich guy who is now all mush from the blast
what a selective blast but miracles like that can happen
so the flying concubine cries out oh can you help before I land
in the sea or on the land surely God can help
but the priest who now has three dogs and an ocelot
which feels like more than he has had for some seasons
shouts back no my love for I have to light somehow
the vesper candles so you must trust unto God
whereupon he alights into the still-smouldering locale
and partakes
of some wine and then earthly as it seems
and for the first time in history
the Catholicon holds no mystery
oh he says
this critter's got me all blistery
this wine seems fulla whine
and not entire divine
I must of kinda lost a lot
with that there rooftop ocelot