Bus note 93

Her white fur head band
with flecks
of red pollution dust.
        Broken diamante phone
is a mirror where
she does up her face.
        Insect machinery
        shows up at edge.
Her inch long gold nails
window tapping
        till she turns
        and looks back hard;
        eyes perplexer jellies.
The Camp Hill boys
with smooth wealth pallor
        tick off mini-cruelties.
Sweating Chinese kid
from some long bad shift
goes along to sleep
with head to cold glass.
        Where the magnolia
        flowers cup up
        now is here.
       

Going outside

Braised steak   hid mouth pink
opens and says open and


memory cult     thick paint signals

a glue coat of not-innocent fingers
blackened
chewy crumbs


sheer awning

on to Summer's swung futile
soft grease cricket bats

No supposers: mush of now
judder the sprung stumps


Thin rat skirts peeling wall


How up is the heating

for the game disassembled


Eye slits with human glaze around


sing song acetone (smelt drape)
veil and chrome green nails

The skin dissolves again

Portrait 12

    Plait
    her
    hair
  and mackerel clouds thicken

           Her teeth split this skin
     white roof of hand
            with ganglion curls saying   up

             The cup's thrown
                  and the big bent
        jack of so and so

        Her black plastic alice band
                 serrated        
                                           not holy

                  Incisors:
               thumb   tip   cut   out

             alive     alive

                    alive

        like a stab in the eye
                   thieved kiss    
    or bursting a blister

iridescent lid dark wickedness

   Sometimes the fits
           look like laughing

Bus note 92

I sweat here being ill.
        The fog.
The shop clock's stopped.
        I shuffle off.
Six foot woman smokes
long thin cigarette.
        Her dress of triangles.
Walk over before
the green man says yes.
        My fog. My eyes.
The back of my stupid head.

Bus note 91

        Lips stretched livid
and going at it too.
        A spittle ring
        cakes there.
Eyes are 372 now questions
outneedling each other.
        He wants to be in again.
Mad with the Export
and schizo pills (aura
of closed ward)
        he works
        a thin familial recall note.
She listens and answers,
measured and scared.
        Her little girl looks
        and makes remembering flags.
Questions, wet ropes,
dark stabs over
stiffening, shutting down heads.

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

       Please
       wash
       your
       hands

"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"



     

Bus note 90

        Whispering static
and stopped rain.
        That one in the bushes
        with the coffee again
(his pretend nature corner
traffic smeared).
        One wall left;
        brick dust cumuli.
White of Birch,
white, sick
and nearly beaming