.






















storm-cloud
petulent apricot
stubborn
loving
everyone pokes their own eyes out
this meat is lousy
the gift of love is not yellow turpentine by a brother field
or rickshaw effigy, burnt by breakfast singlet
a sandwich waits for the coalminer drunk on hippo-love, lick-a-face-a-dog-love
whispery whiskers, south decorum
but this thing with no legs is walking towards us
a sunlit meadow, a hollow transparent tube of an eggplant hallway
surounds us like a vast fingertip
the interogator's jackboot has smoked a human cigarette
the lake of intrepid binoculars
suppply the gasoline, the gas pump, the green and panting ribbon you are not reading about in your mother's large, repulsive head, for it hangs from a turret
this laughing soldier-boy, pizza delivery, and the clean pressed sheets
of an afternoon stroll
through a triangular-shaped ear
a pear tree, a pear tree where summer waits patient
stretching and licking the snow from winter's charlie chaplin, his hedge-row eyes
surround that tiny village
where the wedding-guests merge into one maypole
delirious & neglected
sliding down the glass ropes of a thrift-store ballerina
a handshake with the future is a silent promise
a rocking chair
a rocking chair the size of camoflague
a poppy, with its tongue hanging out
ancient inkspot.... unbuckles sleep
& the carton-wheeled theater-seats melt like confetti
we have been bird-watching............
tentative, and glamorous
we could have been animals



v










i would spray so


jack and the beens talk


.....................Anyone Fancy Another?





.....................................................................................................for merl
.
.









Shape fruit the tulip of bourgeois armory, the time wasting of traffic lights, the downtown robotic frollicking, the huge tongue of springtime. Celtic warriors skulk the outside of the house, faces tribal-marked with soot. Going to be a hot time in Gemany tonight! let loose the elbows and knees. The sky of ice and it cracks cracks shatters. striped zebras wearing humans as necklaces gonna be a cold night in America! Let loose the pygmies, the giants, no time for shamrocks and grandma, the youth are taking to the streets

rooftops ablaze with history. sugar furnace the robotic man-child in his pyjama'd dreams
blue tentacles storm
squeeze the throats of the very living. Squirmy, wormy, end of day mess & the love juice dripping from the elbows of these people. wary. animalistic silent footsteps in the forest. sun busting through the overgrowth. revolution kissing the cheeks. following the heart of the mothers. ripples on a lake. green velvet glove on an aboriginal wall. this bubbling, these small poppings, this doorway of downtown gaudy squalor. morntime. a bird. a small bird. africa.





.

































......................beyond thought, there is a field. will you meet me there?...............................(rumi)


sweet melt godiva's horse

and he is horse-top

sliding gently into field


borrowed time.......................oh love! o love....

lady ethiopia, i am starving for you


how the flowers talk at railroad stations

and bus terminals

how flowers lean in to each other

over the tamac road how

they put their bendy arms around each other


there is no lake like this lake which is the world

purple sky

green rain-drops where our feet were...

the world is not very big

and there is only room in it for our desperate loving...


i suppose soldiers will frost the spring

and tranquilised windows

but christ, the grass!

and the purity of lips

when they are not wasted on speech

the solemn cathedral of our bodies

humanity

stretching out its arms

here, in the forbidden corner

and there, in heaven


lady ethiopia, we are starving for you

the pianos that we hide inside ourselves





.


.



this bubbling, these small poppings, this doorway. following the heart of The Mothers.
the work is calm. ripples on a lake.



.
.




sugar apricot the whistle / signature cavern

coalesce by vacant lot of whispers


slammed by the doorway, the wrinkled toes of a year

wagon of indifference and drunken cowboys

coarse rubber & the idle banter of turnip'd growth

soldier's paddle eats lamp

bestiary

more sugar

pillows of thunder this country lane

this country lane of shadows and silence

falling down the hole with alice

the triangular meadow and sequinned glove

the lake is a harmonica

the lake is a swan

the lake is 12 bottles of dead police

when an eyelash stares at itself

& she is more beautiful than my rent-money

than a baby's hand

than air




.

Facebook Badge