Monday, August 29, 2011

our other eyes and mouths

those little five-fingered faceless monkey gods
can do anything
they are tiny octopuses
wrapped around the world and all the world's things
murdering and loving
imbibing its pheromones
banging and wafting
giving spasms
writing this

imagine them suddenly gone
like a stopped mouth
vacuum blackness where they had been
flies buzzing there
sucking, drying


Sunday, August 28, 2011

mysterious people of the flag

the flag that flew and blew
the flag that flew and was blue
the strange flag that flew its blue
suddenly grew
a hue
the new pink and blue flag
would not burn
but now turned and flew up the flue
over the rooftops it blew
alighted somewhere near breezy Renfrew
where it was spied all over anew
by a farmer where his crops grew
in the new-broken ground

nothing more was found
unless it were
by some covert few


Wednesday, August 24, 2011


all those cows daubed red
in that long field
the sun going down



four hares crossed quick
before the next train came


Saturday, August 20, 2011

Bloodgutter looking in/out at the real Other for whom in is out

caused by the deposition of dead blood
into the schemes of expulsion—think of
trees a clearing smoke rising the smell of meat burning slow

the gunge and ooze the wings the non-wings
the womanly thing the man thing that acts and speaks not
the way that light hits from aside
stairs descending 1234 into the archives
of the body

nine tenths of anyone is bacteria
alien stuff from a world without air
living in us like we are space-suits

Feminism is just the same old urge
to hop louder to eat grass and grow wings that swell
over the sea, to become itself the transhuman

this is the other reason: mix

it up and see
before we were here
before we could be
they were here
they had to migrate when the air brought us in
they migrated into us
our darkness
our warm wet caverns

asteroids loaded with vats of spermaceti
tended by aliens with care and rope

hollow oh oh oh
sits the song

one of these days you will wake up
one of them will be cackling on your headboard
grown huge
do you have a headboard?
I don't know
but you'll regret it and soon

think hard of the substrate
the Burgess Shale
our love affair doesn't fossilize there
it's all just red-black mystery

this is not the beginning middle or end
of a beautiful relationship

airships airships everywhere
so many wild airships
they mount the sky like strange balloons

a billion years if necessary
until the ride is available
back to deep space
to their deep songs

of all the guts in all the world
she had to walk into


Friday, August 19, 2011


everyone in the past was a bastard
evil drunken

everyone in the past was a bastard
holding their kids down under water

everyone in the past was a religious flaming fuckwit
who knew nothing
nothing but anger and vengeance and infant

everyone in the celestial past was a neanderthal comet
what spoiled its soup messed its pants

everyone no excuses was a goddamn psychopath alcoholic
drug addict racist sexist fuck
as are we
looked back upon
in about twenty years



Thursday, August 18, 2011

twelve steps to the great going sideways

he feels he has insects all over him their little needle steps

new revelations of the meridians waking

his electric flagellum sexmotor will not rest

each pinpoint of bodylight has a counterpart

the old rooftop is falling in fast

his pets die starved while he sleeps

he shuffles down to the river splashes his head like a Buddha

who got up in stinking rags and realised

it wasn't over yet that the past weeks

under the tree were just the beginning

that now he had to go home and face it all for real

leave all this behind this virtual practice

leave these sotted rags by the riverside

jump in finally, say it all at last

Hi my name is the Buddha and I am a non-swimmer


Tuesday, August 09, 2011

three and a half seconds of pure light (a poem to the Time Being)

unlike the whip-pan, which is used to rip the viewer
into a tangential reality, the dead-pan uses a melting rack-focus
to engage the death-posture of the character onscreen
—Madeleine Shine

1. (he sees himself laying onward
in the rain stone after stone
into the mist towards a horizon
which cannot ever be known

this is the Zen-pan or stone-pan)

2. the boy the silhouette only of the boy
the long-dead seen from behind
hobbles along the alleyway
leaving his merest forensics

barely stroked into silver emulsion

3. another who reaches the vanishing point
who leaves nothing

—undiscoverable archaeology
of light
a creature of soft parts only
who dances but will not stay
who shimmers but will not keep
who leaves no fossil for the reliquary

4. where at the table the hands work in shards

—of flint, itself fossil, compression,
the metamorphic dead—

knappings; they rebuild in three dimensions
the stone jigsaws—each when finished
yet incomplete—brooding an inner hollow

where something was once eased forth

now only a void, a lost core felt
as disturbance
of the night air, but nothing

when we stir
only nothing

lost there
in all our rolling frames of dream


Tuesday, August 02, 2011


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


sex with your mother

the Prime Minister is an alien
he licks his tail in the bathroom
says yeah

we are at war with everyone
I love it

what on earth is goin on?

the cool cat in the fair keeps throwing
down cards look he says look
a high explosive a hanged cat a dead animal
sharing your pillow

world is this we livin in
love takes your heart
like a swallow burning down
on a fly

that thought different
the waves the radio cracks

it's not enough,

all those people drinking in the grass
shouting over the sea
refusing the language
what are they?
i don't know how to figure their presence
the strength gone from my arms
all of it gived up
all of it drinking in the grass
refusing my arms
are they what?
i don't figure

the waves electric as all fuck
dead on the beach


kings in whirling dust

no one believes a Lewton Bus forever
the boy who cried etc

all I remember is the elephant rearing
the man on horseback rearing
it seems like Vietnam

the Foreign Legion trapped
and will never surrender

but back then how anyone could be heard
I can't imagine
this is how Harold blew it
after almost winning
the boys got over-excited and chased the Normans
down the slight decline to the end of everything

glaucoma: what does the coma mean?

I have advertised my jetski
on the bipolar support forum
it's that time of the month
I needed a laugh

the mist, the dust, the sand, the chaos
these are well done
the Persians have long curly beards
like Babylonians

staggering drunk from a London hairdresser
in 1970

camp life does this

she won't call to apologise
she doesn't

the boys coming in bloody and stinking
you are their reward

oh what biceps from the life, the sheer life

everyone was insane throughout history
almost everyone was an alcoholic
with ongoing traumatic stress dis

order of the order of a gas attack

lodging in the womb such joy