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Oneiric Irish
In half-forgotten dreams When my mind is cottoned by weed I am throttled worthy by a Hobbish queen’s curved dirk The Great Work of acquiring her mercy At all costs her mirth Her lifting attention drifts in unforecastably, in starts and fits And fitful bursts. My cursed person she illusions with purpose She commands all…
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Well of venom helping vellum
Sentiment commonly is wasted Pasted on in gaudy layers, tastelessly For a wickworth of prick-burst amazement. Waistwarding cement Call of a gallingly open casement to a wayward halfbird The forgotten safe word was Ashford.
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Meeting but not
The poetry is not within the midden of the city In the middle of it, sitting, swill sifting for slim pittance. The poetry is in the pity The rhyme is the affair, but thinly filmed. The giving will. I dream in ropes, of gibbet hills. Of rent doublets, gibbous appendages Jealous husbands driven around the…
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Sentient pelvis
The Necromancer raised aloft his haggard cane, then spake A black Cainite recitation, from an umentionable book of hate, As lacquered odalisques trysted twistedly before blistering obelisks. Desires escape does a skeleton once awake, Scratches and scrapes nailbreakingly skin’s underside. Its coffin lid our graffitied hides.
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A quiet word between gentlemen
When in Siamese proximity residing, much by necessity is implied And all requires prior design. At wan light time, whitewashed, swannish With haughty day’s honest fire quashed The first Boche-shell burst of uncurtained eternity; far Mars a fox hanged. Labourers dusty return hungry from thankless days parading oxgangs Maintaining mortarless gates, sustaining estate selvedges Surveying…
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