Saturday, January 25, 2014

Elvis came by
on his bike
pale as a duck

.
girlfriend in tree by the pale gate tooth problem

.
another bowl half full of dead friends

.
up from the aliment new snow all over the table

.
fragment and phrase oh shut your mouth how can you say

.
blue knives at midnight by the garage a frog hops by

.
melting frost down the wire you old crow half full of love

.
gumph like suddenly a head in an ashtray

.
night's hurricane
in the morning
we lie like lost leaves

.

Monday, January 13, 2014

wormy as the copper bottom

found three boys rotted onshore
or half so as squids, half-human and one still fancy
oh you mary sailors
child from salty shadow she crieth
what then of you, child of herringbones
you severy purpoose and freet?
and the while the wavebirds in their keg-leg-longings
of pups and rots and if you swaiver
face up to a seven side-on, breaching
the son-keel we'll give you then, listen there
on watch, for we abaft
the fortitudes, the runnings, the most of all
the berm and discount at 45 no 35
the goodwin the shocks and socks
the layingdown and the timber below
in the floors and strings that hold
and all beside out-cocks the blow

.

Saturday, December 21, 2013

so sag the benches-O

the white fields of nothing
the swaying fields of empty plants, flowers
bucky pools and bellbloom as paradise and its pools
here here
bullet
someone someone
must change these sheets before morning
before the arrival
no you and I must wait here
upon the hillside
with our Accuracy International stolen
and I will shoot and you will spot
one termite below
the eye from a shrew
just before Dawn
upon the day
think now
when the parade proceeds
to walk upon the shimmer
where once
my father
lost his footing
only to find himself wifeless
in Cordoba
bang lifeless with a mouthful of figs
shrews out of his ears
love now


hats like we stook

dating symbols across the carpark
in the near-east.forget.forget.forget
some holy man hollow as backstreet straw
says this: we look upon him [alarums alarums]
for a few seconds before ignition
before reaching out with hammers
to break his rodent compulsion
one's advice must be to distrust
while trusting
to unlove 0)this buddherism see
until the story breaks
down the hillside as burning pigs
at the carthage for Tanith and not
to the awful, the convulsive, the sheer
the /Breton/ thing of the fixed

fixed without that no that knife that bird aloft
do not enter/enter/do/not
not now oh but see
this is how
Steppenwolf
oh stop it now stop/silly says the countess
all tickled asquirm
with a key in its fundament so unlovely giggle away then

for this, this
nothing yet

in the yawls of monty zoo


.

Monday, December 09, 2013

all cats rehomed.

these things shudder by as half-eaten dreams but who gives
their outcome unknown
once I was eating a cake the next minute in wild ships
and this was in India by the southern lights and cookies

on midlife half-human scooters in rainstorms there in Goa
oh come on with the waterfall then! you monkey-faced tumble

all day and night Vishnu fucking Vishnu
well I cared for nothing but vindaloo tortoise
it's a colour most pronounced. it is a colour most pronounced
(most prized and otherwise-hued)

for there by the river as dead women
rocked by our swollen footage and beyond snakes on all sides

on the tide a huge dead elephant
onshore a nothing
some Gay men from Birmingham

and all night at dead Coco Beach
near to the rainstorm in a hut
made from cardboard where once
the wicked witch of the west et up all of a tortoise

now see how you is

but next the jellyfish.think hard.think soft and slow

by the pools this boy over and over
no he says no this is not the poem you were born to write
then he jumps, runs, snips
turns into an old man with binoculars
he is unreachable now and will not speak

you've never seen the sky so low
if you sing this shit again you will surely die
Coco Beach near Namaste near the chickenfish gurning so beyond

Portugal all over like there are horses, territories
colonies of way-out spice fucked from behind

look: potatoes, cinammon, wine, vinegar, dead stuff and packed hair

I am all done with it anyway and halfway baked
when he comes back from the pool
waSted like that and little and offers up
an oyster yeah i grab it
next thing we are buddies
drowning together in blue vapour
our hearts streaming out as red strings
on the guitars [red/blue]
of people we will never know/knew
the man out at sea the man who stands there

we open each others' wardrobes look in  at our peril

I want to say more have you seen will you ever know

what about it anyway?

.




Monday, December 02, 2013

alum and white again some baths of lead

the patchwork the pidgin
the pooling and how there you stood
drooping more how you were lit
in such lobbies and counterfoils all night
on the bed bouncing in deliria
not with sex but with ardour and the many fascines
thrown on all sides like incense or gingerbread
how we bounced not once but thrice
barefooted and and
then such rides to the north
and i cannot exclaim it
freckles and dead meat
and a river running by
and on the tops the beginnings of snow
underneath it all ash and the ceaseless
sound of cars driving
along the high street the high road
into the highest and nearest river
and above it all on the tops
the soft leavening of snow
starting to happen
along the corridor route
above the gulfs so deep
all of us falling at the last
gasping up into the interior
but there on the tops, snow
into which as any would
we arms like rebar and over
the far we'er hills we overgo
nothing like this
nothing such

and there on the tops
you know again
this smallest snow
.

Thursday, November 21, 2013

the difficult bell that wyndes across the mill yard at hometime in the shifts

wayward Buddha who drifts lonely in the illustrious mist
Buddha three foot off the floor
we are not envious
neither that otherbuddha who walks over rivers
it's nothing that gravity can't fix

and all our songs in disarray
even there in the flower tides
what is it, campion? the bellflower, the germander speedwell?
down at this Wycoller they care for aisles
do you feel such longing
Buddha of the far night?
with your missiles in tact
and who knows now the junction
of tactile and tact?

she will not answer
but that was always unexpected

it's nothing that a brisk walk down the ginnels

(to the mill by the river by the fields of sabotage
our clogs upon the cast iron are not smelted
and oh such oxygen)

not you again

(it is reported that 21.5 people were killed earlier today in a suicide attack
in Jerusalem. it is reported but unconfirmed that God was amongst the many injured.
my disbelief has left a hole in the sky
through which a stain tinges)

nothing. nothing. not any more.
only the wynde and the slow/fast creep
where the water used to be

you with your brightness
your unexpected tightness
I was once a wild hedgehog
what lived live there in ditches
such things we have now
whiteness of bristle and bone
lightness even, scarce, unknown
all now agog
clouda moona thickets of the far
bush
no one ever

Sunday, November 17, 2013

haiku
why won't you rhyme?
it's high time!

Saturday, November 16, 2013

extraordinary measures in the sloop

03:57
and such clothes
maybe you think
look now
it is almost midnight
and all your cutlery jumping
like wild bells
I am a thing with a hood
you are the rattle
at the end of the world
as the rivers spill
as the horses slowly topple
but look again
for we are all of kindness here, now
it's time to stroke and collide
time to breathe
this is not yet the future
where we will be asked
it is just that moment
when we need to know
that hey
sink soft
no one will kill you tonight

it's a rare thing
whatever you got

down deep again, where they don't ask
the wildfires
shh
sleep soft, all of you
there are fireworks over the hills
and we heed them not
not tonight
sleep all my wide babies of snowy places
we are only ill with love
soft as the touch of faraway
and your whole heart snuffed yes
oh just watch, listen
tonight
we are saying yes

(what could Minkowski meant?)
(Oh be are baby tonight)
(Oh)
(0h)
like a dream and snuffle it comes ever on
oh stop it she says stop it
this moment yes this moment
is all there will ever so

.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

ever yet in the crepuscules

come on motherfucker
your head fell off three years ago
when we stood outside that window
looking at the jewels
all I'm saying is three guys
with sledgehammers
could get through this sex
in seconds
and walk away as nuns
never to be seen again
om
I mean on
the high sad streets of Wilmslow
where the cratered malevolence
of Gold ticks its heart attacks
all of us now
Buddhists filled up with frozen fish
at the thought
let's do it tonight
OM
yes/no
tick tick
boom alabama
and all points past
one half of a tiger
and all the world

.

Saturday, September 07, 2013

haiku

think and think again
half-moon—
what star-lit fools

.

haiku

three days drinking wine
with the curtains closed—
storm clouds gathering

.

Friday, September 06, 2013

haiku

rowing my boys
around this sparkling lake—
all our ancestors

.

haiku

through the dark
the owl hears the mouse—
two shivers

.

Saturday, August 24, 2013

pottery

Don't trust anyone. There are too many anyones and they will tear you in all directions with their opinions. Only trust yourself, and then only when you are utterly relaxed, almost dreaming, when you don't care about anything or what anyone thinks, and you are almost prepared to die in the next line. Keep your deepest feelings close, but don't EVER let them write your poem or paint your picture. When unsure what to write next, go climbing. There's no such thing as a writer's block. That's just you blocking out the light. It's not an obstacle. Write about the new intrusive shadow.

.

Friday, August 23, 2013

The Triggerfish Critical Review Issue 11 is now live online and can be viewed here:

http://triggerfishcriticalreview.com/

Can't get the  proper hyperlink function working properly for some reason, but this overloaded blog seems to get increasingly clunky as I get older. I fear its legs are failing, its heart disrhythmic, its appetites awry...

Anyway, a kind of in-house edition featuring most of the scaffolding crew who produce Triggerfish. That seems like an unusual idea, but unusual isn't bad.

Apart from that, there's truly fantastic, Taoist artwork by artist ZZ Wei, as well as an interview I did with him via his wife Hsuan Lin, as translator.

If you've been following Triggerfish, if you're an afishonado (sorry, just couldn't help it - Hail Mary!), then you know who to expect in an 'in-house' edition. Enjoy or avoid. But don't miss ZZ Wei!

.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

there was a new ape called Cuadrilla
who acted like he was Godzilla
he hacked and he fracked
till our plates were all cracked
but he promised to use Polyfilla

Sunday, August 04, 2013

some other exercise thing wah

all the trees become monkeys at nightfall
their silhouettes falling/failing in black buffaloes of exuberant life-mud

—in wine and strokes we pick the black parasites
from our hides, all of us native as treetops, roots, bark, nothing
beyond what we can see—deserter... we call you that. we dare and dare not.
the mudwine has taken us for harvest. you who deserted us, carry us then
in your strokes, carry us forth and do not. submerged as the naked one lying beneath, your story, your stroked mud, deserter. you who know nothing
and all things in the foul mouth of the harvest-rainbow. you who carry us on

my love our love, all that you are become the treetops now of monkeyed night. deserter. foul mud. breakers of wine. strokes of the carry-harvest,
unleavened, black carry.


.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

same river thrice with narrative for those in need

a man walked sideways for fifteen days it was a discipline
taught to him by a guru as an act intended to bring about
awakening of a sideways sort but after these fifteen days
the man felt neglectful of the other direction and side
and felt that he must now attend to that
but in these opposing fifteen days he felt
that he was somehow revisiting earlier work
and indeed did he arrive after much thought and travail
at that place where the guru still stood urging him on towards
one side or the other it was somehow difficult now
to identify sides and the man decided not sidewalks
but rivers might be his thing and therefore left for a place
where there were known to be such rivers even in their sidedness
and downward determining and there eventually he arrived
although his motion had been still a little sideward
as of a river or wind although either might be disputed
and there there he sat and did not think any longer
of aught but rivers and their directionlessness
and each night there by the river was as though
a hurricane and a vast mouth and a red light that gleamed
and in all he was happy with it and felt it to be
a kind of love of which he had not known
and one night he slipped softly into the river
with pockets filled with stones and was borne away
in some direction that seemed at once this way and that
so now the direction seemed not to matter
and he slept softly there being carried down or up
to the new and farther place of ending and beginning
like some message in a bottle that could not be salvaged
until the very end and the sediment itself would be raised
now compacted and formed into rock that towered like time


.

every time is the first time

all night the wood runners back and forth under the lights the birds the fell-faced giants. nothing can stop this now and it rolls in again again. have you seen this calamity across the fields when the linseed turns blue and stops for a second with its hiss? something about this that turns everything. then we know at last. that wind giant was too busy so did not stop. even though there you lay broken he would not stop. out there in the wind urgency has collapsed. they lay upon their sides laughing tornadoes of death. fulmars of nothing. vespers and kindnesses that lie flaccid. some winds are too much for our little windows you damn fool, he cries, throwing the antique beaker from Iberia. all our clothes leak. sadness stalks the land like a wind of murder

.

Tuesday, July 09, 2013

post-pneumatic religion and inedible dates huff

as though the wainscot widened and an eye
or organ or otherwise enquiry
as though you there in reverie sat upright
as though a child's toy suddenly moved
in one flash six feet across the floor
and you devoted an entire life
to seeing that again
but never outside of sleep
oh see how the tip flares
backlit as shared ancestry
oh my abdomen/thorax/head
my chitin and wing-casing
my measly leggage that will not suffice

Bucky says no not up or down just out there
for how now such direction after Galileo
[if they ever get it working and trust Europe
for a name like that and anyway not to work]

might just as well ask
does the wind blow
or is it sucked?

either way never to be seen again

.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

salvage operations at Dream's door

after the dust after the night the stamps and long looks
it must be that he revisits the area
in search of fragments, moments

that should not be left behind.spirits
that can still be salvaged and drawn forth
from what seemed present but was really aside

alongside and if one had looked with the edges
of one's eyes it could already have been seen
that those were dead channels whose signals

could not arrive in the present and would have no life
in any future beyond eccentric/specialist histories
he comes back with handsful of broken artefacts:

tablets etched with mistakes.de facto promises
never now to be.long dream vistas sketched
in air quickly exhaled and forgotten

bones, wet clay, blood and fibre.this will take time
but time and reassembly are what are left
on this side of the magic door.he is thankful for that

.

meridians of what is not (Ah Pook, the Destroyer)

again the sprawl and slur of unreason

as the whole day leaves in a hurry
mopping itself back up on the way across
"who really gave that order?"
reanimated/reactivated/reassembled as a kind of death

that reaches out an unseen hand to trip those dancers
who did not look and would not look
again the bodies broken on the wet road

raising feeble heads and wondering what
the/de/light/me/not the quint/essence
the pipes the pipes are calling
from way down the fountain around which

we inreeled the Sci-Fi strain threatening to life
unaccepted/unfillable/inviolate
only half alive skims over surfaces

never once looking down
not even at maps or other forms of the below-
oh no he cries oh such schlock and schtick
as the whole day the week or several arrives

and leaves in one such flash and flush
quite of the order of hands.quiet.shying
hush now hush—the beginning

of the world is nigh

.

Wednesday, May 08, 2013

a 10 word challenge poem from a poetry group somewhere

zebras, stripy horses maybe...

some frivolity some alacrity but not that, no not airborne
not something public and known
lifted from the river, scooped, but whirled,
same but different
oh but a sort of flight and beauty and care and sweep
quite the opposite of how you consider it: fast. as if
strength had other cases.wafting onshore at low water
the wave-destination across all oceans
me and you forever.things like that. moon and tide

 .

not even one swallow makes a summer (a much-reducible complexity)

truly for you nothing is written, Lawrence, blah blah—can't remember who Omar Sharif

I will revive etc as though revivification was a wheeled animal
suited to presentation in a Dover Area School hearing of the flagellars

nothing left of her but hairclips
perhaps some DNA
which even post-apocalypse
takes time to wash away

all this people informed
all this telling
all this offering
you've got to stop
all this wanking
why, will it make me go blind etc

no but it means you are ...

all the effort and sharing and volunteering and introduction
all dedicated ex post facto to the urgent proof, the question
the trial and strappado and squassation of the proof
of the old untruth that not even one swallow does not indeed
make anything

.




Tuesday, April 23, 2013

counterflarf

love tomato

in high-end supermarkets
I've driven 100 miles
this is like Disneyland
at the wrong time of year
in every dazzling
a chance mutation
it tastes of absolutely nothing
from the south of Italy
and of course smells fantastic
it's certainly possible
it's not going to fly in the breeding
a raw cranberry
a household product?
down towards Dorset
for the most part

the weather now
working its way
and the far south-west
the middle part
the rest of the day
the best of the temperatures
sing, sing

hundreds of extra police dominate
the top slots
there are no signs
on the start line
at the halfway mark
it's still not clear

these dramatic details

flarf arf

unnecessary paperwork

a man walking found yesterday
has taken the top spot
the richest person from iron ore
one of three
having grown
now look
the lost chances
taken down it says
the brothers are thought to be
the end
who died needlessly
was treated like luggage
immediate improvements have been made
following footsteps
Warren/Justin/Bill

it's time for Sunday
medical practice
should Islam play?
the natural platform
we simply don't know what
we are joined
this was Stalin
what happened to
Sufism was the perfect unable
ready to fight to the death
a jihad trail, that's the sauce
architects

average Russians, ask
we actually sought out what to make people happy
so they lose
let me ask
it's so implausible
there's a huge amount to deal with
we didn't think we had a perfect way
one way
let's deal with that
the primacy of religion
at the very least
I'm not sure
an intrinsic calling
you couldn't have

it means more
for instance
let me just put a final question
put it crudely
ten years ago
suddenly
in my opinion
I certainly agree
an internationally acclaimed pianist
has been convicted of blasphemy
hanging over him
in which

Monday, April 08, 2013

switched off indefinitely [some out-Abilene Paradox]

he sees the lights mutters oh the lights look he says
lights ahead lights I know them what they mean
there is time he thinks and forgets them right there

in the blue zones are symbols that represent wrecks
not so much in the physical but in the connections
that went before.everyone.at some level.sees this coming

ignorance which can only be by choice.either of display
or of discovery.harken to these deeper haptics
of the infrasonics.of the sub-semantics

How To Make Things Dead:

stop but there is no stopping for there are no responses
and the cavern does not echo.the quiet.too quiet.
lets it happen
will not intervene will not reach out will not say stop you/I/we
are entering the irredeemable world from which
no one returns.he says there is no such world but that
is only his view ahead into the lights and he will fly there
alone.all others having abandoned the craft before impact

I or you didn't want this.therefore it was inevitable
let's not let's do it yes/no
too late it's undone
in the oncoming retreating light

"the exorcism typically requires the summoning of demons in both
 parties, first allowing their terror of each other
then the utter dispelling of the myth
that they were demons at all. in all cases
these conditions are early fears, and can go on
to become anything, given sufficient wind and gust
from the thighbone trumpets"— Bon Po Exorcism,
Madeleine Shine, 1989

.

.


Friday, April 05, 2013

blue

black branches on blue
first bird already singing
from the silhouettes

.

Monday, April 01, 2013

rearing cornices of the upshut

so we're zooming in
already your teeth an issue of disarray

the snow has cornices, architraves, mouldings
ogee/torus/egg and dart/astraglomancy
these terse things undistinct and while I looked-O

down South/Sith in the vapid fronts a blackbird
there have been already many disasters
555333if you know not
I met her at the railway station such gaslights we reached
she was wide, Gothic, adorned, gaslit
the line offered such virtue and escape
out there in the gasnight a blackbird beneath
and all now lost
.....boys forever jumping on hammers
a thing leaps now from on high wails
battering the shell into extinction but we care not
for this
all day shimmying
up and down through the public doors
watch this we cry forth
watch again with no hands
watch
how...we...climb
through the moss/through the moss
bang and bang again
if ever there was a reason
for time to have such a reason
then surely this is the reason
shut up, she cries, out there with her hammer
don't fall, no, don't
it's worse down there
at nightfall carrying home broken-legged
bearing away
fractured sons of adventure
all Easter lofted in the snows
lambkins dead below
stop

.

Yes to this


machine sea (2011)

ugh a dread from over
            the far morbay that blackback fells stark
                         into spluts of early birdscold

a monster inching inthing .              that ingrew
[airturtles in lifts of silent drubdead] a waiting grew in-again
and ingrew
until over all.the cock and cocklefield was a mainshout pulked

all-ending the lowscrats
in their long-hauled ruggers lugged hard.
the gutwives widing the redroll to belift
                                        in now the men the drymen in, in

acres now to the barrel-beaches with the uncut catch inwarped.
fishimps and ghosts sidelaying low as lie-low for Jamaico

on the eastlandic scottles .............of west herringbane
and chinee soup schlocked in-out in octofathoms
of hemp drabingers, haulers, menwomen
from the near-sea teeters.a washup iglooed him up in rubs
on a southbeach known by no one.his/her face disglued

the songs of how they wore their sea-sucks unscrewed
now from his beachheart and heave-head for the far Cathay tubs



(published in The Triggerfish Critical Review,  2011)

 .

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

snow

we drive home
in other directions—snow
like dead confetti

.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

even everything is almost nothing

so close so almost close so far so
the night smothers us all in snow-soft
the strings stray minutely and wholly into utter dissonance
making decisions, making decisions, busy busy busy
my word, my word
the unfamiliarity
the compression into almost nothing
that contains the universe in embryo
the screensaver green in the back room
flickers
you, you think it is a ghost
but it is everything else
falling like leaves backlit
in some cellar faraway
flushed with wild solvents
all these ambients thrashing their last
(all my plans/all my plans

out like little lights
...

.

cinquain

I flush
the fish away
she beats a kettle drum
the kids watch the funeral rites
struck dumb

.

all quiet on the Preston Front

most vexatiously ill-clad under a car in the snow—Madeleine Shine

the waves onshore make no sound
their energy displacement stifled—
the seabirds do not cry
the fish the wind the sunlight
have no way to know
the proton gradient builds
the periphery cannot hold
nothing is uttered, everything is lost
all energy sucked back in the counter-tsunami
draining far off out there
through holes in the seabed
raining down far below
into caverns that echo only with silence
for even there
no words, no cries, no sounds of waterfalls
nothing now to guide the way
only the collapse of a wave function that could not hold
could not speak
would not
wave

.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

shellfish

lay it wholly on small ices in preparation
let its motions cease
splay the members easily though with care
not to mark or damage the outer casing
it has no exact plastron or carapace
though proximal seams may be discerned
have a care for these for they may be easily split
to mar the appearance and quality
the first incision must be through the abdominal sea-wall
to reveal any eggs or splendifera
which must be removed whole
to be replaced later beyond the papering
apply therefore the luxator to break the fixations
or restraining ligaments that bind the genital core
to the aliment and sloop
lift it whole from the bedding
place it in the thoracic cavity: the glans
and intestes, the throat sickness and the urbane follicle
if any vivacity remains it will quickly fade now
as feathers fall from an exploding dove
these congruent diversions are vital
if the operation is to evoke the requisite peppery fluids
if the fields of slow armagnac night are to be elicited
from the brachial cogs and genitives
of the body-slick
now with a dream-snap fold in the limbs to the centre
covering in entirety the 'facial' area in forgiveness
capture them there with folds of brightness
and shattered ropes of culinary grade
do this with assertion and a sorte of nakednesse
brake here the entire organism with slow heat
until he effervesces with blue alacrity
in serving, crack the shell and pour as a solid liquid
into salvers or weighty crocks
as glass or otherwise lead

apply such ritual as is seemly
such is the preparation and the serving of the large shellfish
 
.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

hands like giant falling sheep

[the conditions it fakes/faces
I am your mother
we share the uh mouthhgun the mouthgerm
we/my/I are a chronic anaesthetist
such ungodly aesthete

we may say
we were brought up that
they/we had no end of rats' asses
to choose from

where did you get love from_
it's all very difficult to recall=from (tail.snout)

¿have.you.seen these hands and lands¿
yesterday/only/
now watch this

over here like a rat
going-down
on the head of a captain///capped Anne

sluck sluck sss
evil eye evol
wah and
the brat-floating

off course 2X3 inchmetres

the strange sad thumb trick at the
how it was

[cockled) one is to learn to bagtype to touchdance ¿
on all such keys-oh
when all this outbelled, combing with many incomes of the many marcels and millimarcels

hectopascals of the mouthwater

risebird, uh rise¿¿¿
.

Wednesday, March 06, 2013

pretty hues ask after all if drugs are the thing

few have knelled and known oh the yellow stir
what and even more
when after all after all
and still after
and sometimes the belief
faraway the furthest the farthest of us
slits itself blooded oh bloodward
how sad and dynamo; how like
a tree once rid
of
well
half-ached all over
yr lost/found mind wasn't mine
all it found to find
in it
at dusk-bells to say lakes

.

Monday, March 04, 2013

the yellow way to Nirvana

Kurt Cobain's lank hair filled
with screams/pixies/trajects
all the air
all the air around
one little girl/boy
disputed
hello hello hello hello
don't wish for it
may you live in etc
how many girls in Seattle
would have wished scrawny
wishes for any of so much life
just before?
fingerprints?
what is the sound of one hand
thrashing over
the bridge pickup?
think there

nothing now
never mind
hey

spirit umbilical frags all in
the next door noises of love
anyone left smoking?

.

Friday, February 22, 2013

no way in or out

there's nothing to it, watch

the iron plates of the skull in spasm
a core-sample from the inner ear, the sinus
a straight line curling into the forest pathways
choked again with drifts of leaves
at this point further penetration
is unlikely/the party retreats through
swamp and density in excited disarray
sucking in arrows from the shades
carrying out their last malarial god
on his shield
to deliver back unto his immovable parent state

all down the banks
hares dancing unseen
beneath the rocking bells
it's almost some kind of Christmas
if you're fucked enough
to love it

.

Friday, January 11, 2013

the wide sneer of motorcycles

black, lank, cool, the enticing cloud
talks across the parklands and wires
its shaven participles, its dogs and damage
requited briefly by some gust and thrust
[we continue our extracts] the reader is
as always in complete innocence
I want to change, it says or does not
say, a middle child, I met, to learn more
immaculately dressed, there on the floor
as a baby a baby

they were grateful
she had started having accidents
again

.

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
matter


.



Friday, December 07, 2012

nightlife

 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)
(help)
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
yah

.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.artgalleryabc.com/images/ernst27.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.artgalleryabc.com/ernst/blog&h=379&w=1042&sz=59&tbnid=pLoIkSjdpYsgfM:&tbnh=44&tbnw=120&zoom=1&usg=__WP0XAQ0--OvILgNaMXml8W0YnkU=&docid=mN9F-1OPki8dhM&hl=en&sa=X&ei=C1KtUNOPFeKJ0AXn2YGQAQ&ved=0CDgQ9QEwAw&dur=2203

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
..............................in the blood from my thigh
..............................light lit light upon light
switchback/heaving/underwater/surge
.....................................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

nothing

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


.

burden

slumping bookcases
oh all those words
what a burden

.

beck

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 
to FUCK OFF
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
watch

.

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

Berlin

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
cashew
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

hysteria

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

.

Cardamona

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 tree.one 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
given

(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
forevers

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
whoosh
you scattered all over the hill, still twitching in bits
haha
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

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

.

uh

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?

uh

.

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
wah
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
phut
almost an explosion—plop bang kinda
driver almost stopped
wondered anyway
what it coulda been

yeah only Jesus bouncing

again

drive on, drive on
the lights are bright
tonight
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)
................................you 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
black

.

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
oh

.


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
without
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 flux.ice 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
anywhere
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

.

fucking-genes

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
annoyed
358
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

ex-pounding

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
alright
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

MAU MAU
MAU MAU
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
electrified
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

.

pounding

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:

http://triggerfishcriticalreview.com/

Yah!

.

cigarettes

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

.

violet

out there, imagine

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

.

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
processing
screaming a bit through my beak
scaring the crap out of everyone
just for wild robot kicks

.

deadlines

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
clasp
holding it in
making it real
float out
swoon
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.

blup.

hotel this works black.blue.out
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
egged

on
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




cinquain

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
love
shape up

.

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



1.

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
abide

2.

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
shalalalalalala

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

maybe 

I'm just not sure what the problem is

no, I am
I am sure
it's this

.