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Pliant Tyrant
Reality to me Nothing to awe at Something to paw at Poke at with my awl Only all I give is hell Reality something malleable Like kids hands rolling moulding balls of marla. Creation myths the mata Punctuation lips the fada Barely lift my bucket so much water Barely lift my blade so much slaughter…
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Spring Spells Summer Starts
Day of Bealtaine Shovelling it down, like trowel dinner Veil faint as paint thinner Ecstasy take 23 Dance until my heart seizes and I keel over Planes bird shadow white cliffs at Dover Those my soul goes over My easeful transit transatlantic Angels traffic skyways Coincidental highways My way or the jibe’s fake Cry your…
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Priestly Utterance
My sermons more like shellings from German Shermans Give thanks to my liberating tanks, their tracks like black veins on trank addict faces You are marked My pockets jingle with Deutschmark, shillings German Version Always seek new perspectives, prospective revelation, Robert Graves’ Persian Version German excision, took off his Von Ranke when Germany’s ranks shell…
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META4
This ain’t no metaphor Last week I met a three Powers out, should have dashed Door ajar you forgot the latch Descending sixteen storeys through a high rise flat Dark as the tomb save sawing light from a match Breeze blows it out, bird covers mouth to stifle shout In the silence her scream is…
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Orpheuselessness
Boatman haunts the opening Daunting Orphic mysterion Inducing supernatural slumber Inducted acolytes slip under Lethe waters, that river thunders Through Hell’s halls. Not the only one that runs there Blundering alongside its forgetful brother A water of memory, mind’s spring water Time’s sweet mother a patchwork smothering device The dead line its sides, life yet…
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Alchemisland 