Saturday, 1 March 2014

Music and Movement

Lungs clagged outside

       sucked smoke
  blown out as amulets

                     excremental air

        Yellow sacs are full
      with people weights

 a breather

             unseen caking
          secret stalagmites

              Fishes in blood are blind

         His bloated neck in heat
              a fat key jangle            

 sleeping tache          where
      the windowless eyes

   Us against        poverty romance or
     fucked and ready dignity

 Meandering in and out
           of stupid garden

Her with jewelled eyes
        and then bleak eyes and then
   jewelled again

           her heart her hate aflutter
              her hurt her
      hysterical hair map

Medical witnessing
                        at a chatter pace

     Decay-stained valentine, curled
                where the plumbing


"We don't go
to the disco"

 And the dank old
           in the cold old
    Brythonic dropped clouds

From the back window, The Shadows:
              "Wonderful Land"



  1. We're on the same page, about the disco!

    It all comes back... the draining of the polders...

    catch a wave!

  2. "The music must always play;
    Lest we know where we are:
    Lost in a haunted wood -
    Children afraid of the dark
    Who have never been happy or good"

  3. I'm in no way having a pop at Hank and the boys, mind.


  4. o man!

    her heart

    her hate

    her hurt her

    hysterical hair

    . . .

    poems so good

    one wonders