There is here and toing and froing Then there is the cold Plutoan All roads there lead Move aside Rome and meagre the man of Rhodes The breadth of Hell’s smallest flaming moat Goes on stretching forever. On naked beds, hot skin made flatulent contact.
Forcefed mountain flowers for milk-thick hours Wearing a movable chainmail of stringy spittle Thistles I sicked up Slid skidless about Caesar-gown flowers Like an airhockey disc across a rink.
Charity shops who support banning pangolin scale trades Or who aid blind Silurians Or help Biafran creative spastics onto trains They give you those ancient bags of immortal plastic Craggy with lines, raked finely With wide loops of thin elastic like anaemic McDonald’s emblems. In some bulbless, post-Event tumult One’s intact posterior becomes a trade… Read more: Bags older than me
The cannon reared backward violently Like a seated man avoiding an hot spill My heart a vessel chartless and shot-chewed The stinking male spray, bilge-hearted War starter, sternly barging past gouging burgs Showing half of half of half Enough to capsize a vessel of this size The waves it breasts bravely threaten To send her… Read more: Sea war
Shoes blood-dewed and me hoarse with yelling Leave a belly distended vilely like I’m ending Mary Jane Kelly Berry strains blent to unsteady messily and it’s not disappointing; On the mezzanine of me, the velveteen sphere which I produced Is less pleasing to me than when I lived thusly, on tutored knees. Bled and leeched… Read more: Irregulargesse
Alchemisland 
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