Sunday, January 25, 2015

We are all Raif...

table-rappin' with the air-pope an' the new dead king—a séance riff

I believe strongly in the rights of women
King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia
hairway to Steven—The Butthole Surfers

every reader like-it-or-not
the auteur—earlier this month
an air strike not only but also
we are told it's not clear
/a missile/the country/has/no new cases
[reported but Pope Francis

is flying Pope Francis] the popefantastic
king of droppingbirds today we are
flying Air Francis

he make his way
wear a cheap plistic outercoat
stucks to a hardline

[by the water of the new life
where does the slapback echo live?]

—this-of-course about how many children
he would (& have (& in Brussels)
(& scientists in Britain)

what about eye colour
the sperm and egg fusing
in mice?

in the Vatican in Riyadh
the Haj and heading, the course to steer
Osama and the hole in the sky the skid

the starboard and steerboard and stern 

oh so sorra, Mimi...

starving prisoners the royal daughters
and Friday floggings O Bluebeard but
it is surely Scheherezade and Hassan i Sabbah

(//Indonesia [executed[ six people\\)

a man who made trouble and doubted, an evildoer

"the presence of our target army"

Oh goddamn she cries these people
who care so much

don't you see?
don't you see?

(even as we peak)
(evil as we squeak)


Monday, January 19, 2015

Max Ernst goes shopping

where really does one
accept/want to be of the hearth and home
is it safe or unreal?
when it really matters
do you want to confront
your vast denial?

I suggest an island
loaded with birds
and a far horizon
on which to forget

either that or hear the alarm
right now
it is 06:46
and the rest of your
fucking life
in doubt or hope

put that gun to your head
and say yes


Sunday, January 18, 2015

woman struggles at night,

for God's ache
I remember making it
now I can't speak
put that in
this doesn't mean I'm dead
I think it would wake me more awake
I'd quite like you to shave
would you be cross
I've thought about it
yes please
do you want me to make it
I don't know what you mean
I haven't got anything
I haven't got anything
so you can do your fucking
I haven't got anything
oh dear hot liquid
why is the bed so wet
no you didn't

if I was living on my own
I would have set fire to myself
no, that's it, finished


of all things

what is otherwise or elsewhere
in the pipes before dawn yes you you
start thinking though it be
a creaky engine that shakes the house

from its other. O think and sink as
the marsh birds in the reeds and rills

for there is nothing better more benighted
more loving than this water underground
and of a sudden a night bird

aloft, who cries

of all things, in the crevices, yes


Friday, January 16, 2015

parrots in the pipes

Sandwich gone. Sunyata. The wheeling. No mouth to put it in. Park bench. Flippancy. Oh think. Traffic. Peace. What distant shrills of sandwich. Pursued by a squirrel. What is nevertheless filling. Eat up.


Wednesday, January 14, 2015

engines at how

if only this
with such
oh look
at how
and all of it
of love
O how
it clouds
this machine
love like motors
in the eye
of all
whir and slack
as the deep-
drifted up
from wells
with eye-love
look and look
into all wells
and deeps
look now
with such
buckets and pails
as they spill
our words

fire and then

of the fret-
fire and only
three more



a pink prohibition era

anteriors in his eyes now he has left
the last elevation
up and down as angels

it is not clear or stark now
this thing
look again and look not

for the chance will not come again
to gaze upon
such wonder of the body
anyway what?

you are a fool only
for such elevated jealously
what regrets all night and therefore



a some infatuation with rare birds

one would if only like the scrapes
dig deep
in canyons
the inter-gluteal cleft

wherein the song of solomon
abets for now

it is always 6 AM

and we always oh god

if only it were possible to wipe
these things

now, though, now
the sickness
of all reality

larfing all over itself

baby won't you wake?


dark of the Nibelungen, only worse

turkish headdress up there
as gamoots or other eunuch frollies
in a park at mid or after
threatened with large-ish stones
all our trinkets were lost
though this may anyway

have been a dream
a wild man or two
you know how it goes
the sprinkle the dark the blue-black

wine that reeks so
of the Prophet's blood and ichor
though surely
illness/in a bag one/has heard

such things as wild cries
but they cannot suffice
not now in the vapour[]
where all is true

such stark elevations
says Speer
what majesty and fire
with his silk, with his oil

I don't trust him for a moment

you know what they say now?
what's the difference between the Turks and the Jews?

The Turks have got it all to come...

blue-eyed kohl bring it back
bring it back
bring us all
to Charlie