Tuesday, 24 April 2012

This is history! [part two]

Wouldn’t you let me in where the coat gapes
to the clay pit where I found the snapped owl spine, scuppering gentil casuistry
        We're doing magic and scraping away with the teaspoon
until the writing happens to be pristine. Glamour, spittle shined and scattered willfully
                                           the steady head imperfected
                   I don’t want this any more: folded arms a shield; feathery blue veins at the foot.
              I keep writing anyway
                        There is a singing like fly shit spread across the roof of the mouth    gathering at the fingers, tipped
The clay pit gives way to luscious prejudice here.                                 How many historians coughed up the blond hairballs how many ached after knocking one too many off
Let down your hair your hair so that we may tell like wet eyed boys with our treachery wrapped up and bowed: our way through.


  1. hello sir. you have quite a something here.

  2. Thank you. Something of an unknown territory for me but I like the feel of it.