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Choosing Who To Pray To
View from the pew View from the tomb Few tunes from the Mu Mu Fortunes made and lost with a pew pew Six shooter brandished, saying be cool Too cruel for this rule, became a recluse Following Ra’s clues like Blue Trained with boot and tool, Blue Razz Ra’s al Ghul Ratchet one looking like…
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Mood: Cruellest
Laughing like Tidus Meanwhile you’re Titus Groan If you keep going on this way You’re going to find out why April Is the duellist’s month Let’s meet out front Blood rush pumping Taking our paces On a mark, about facing Let one pawn be erased Without the spirit, flesh is but waste Refuse, a vile…
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Waterdreamer
Need a boat connect, something with propellers Propel myself along a dirty-dish-wet deck on peglegs forever Why there’s porn on the telly I can’t tell ya Enough girls here, like a trafficker’s cellar. Came from Africa like early man Ireland map where we’re selling at Wildest Thornberry, born ready Flooded the block like rocks broke…
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Judas trees
For his betraying Christ, tonight we are out wren hunting. From this aping of Naboth’s grapery We uproot every elder trace Who fast held as Judas gasped His neck having failed to snap.
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Do hands dream?
Too shy to raise my hand and ask I would rather waddle home damp My sealed thighs bundling soiled strides Hanging loincloth pendent otherwise Far from then now, far as gate-tending Time allows I’m happy asking now. In fact, I’m happy announcing aloud, freed of tact Exactly what denomination of ablution will be afoot in…
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Secret bonfires
I watched a mucky sod suddenly sodden with startled starling shadows Knew God. Struck out for new clod, floundered in cod-haunted shallows I imagined dashed ambitions matching my uncapturable mission: Flodden King bonnie King dead, bonfire-fit banner trodden; Napoleon’s modern Army newly modelled useless as quadriremes bottled. You could not accuse this wittering ditherer of…
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Worthy remnant
This patch once a brightly-addled field What of that remains now breath-straining ash conceals; Beneath clay layers minute as flea caskets bask rent steels Spurs for steers who faced austerely fearsome spears Muskets pristine and unfired as Wuthering Heights’ hearths. I feel translucent Train lucented-night trains me Draining, sluiced of all remaining memory Straining still…
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Bottling an ineffable
By sheepish weir she appears with ireing fleetness I know in my bones, in my toes, in my throes, I am that hireling she seeks. From the parapet of a threatened nest, the sharkfin impression of a beak Seeks out from wattled thorn and hay and down, to speak confoundingly Of lovers sworn to smothering…
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Alchemisland 