Tuesday, April 23, 2013


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

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

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
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


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
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


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)