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Random Search
The guards are looking around but the sofas blocking door got them treading ground I’m low to it, beneath the clothes horse looking my barrel down I can’t be seen like an unborn kid, like bday envelope got my 50 hid.
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Creaky Springs
A bothy on the isle of Jura, cold steals the subtlety of breath Oranged by a burning million, the transfixed KLF Whether hard by here on hinterlands or strong foundations, man’s best laid plans, Winter a Yakuza in taking fingers, first frost lingers, ensure a fire warms your hands. Burn a thousand notebooks full of…
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Nearing End
Time slipping by like snapped rope The box was empty, hope eloped Circling time like a roundabout I crash the wall, hit the dash and then flattened snout Feeling like I have to stay inside, hide from a fatwa Watching parties at distance like Gilbert Grape’s fat ma All in all I’m like Aspinall, two…
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The Swan Hunt
The fetch: that life must end The fence o’er which gunmen bend The birds toward which their gunshot tends The fetch, the fetch, the fetch to end. Swans turned loose are roundly shot Leaded bodies by hounds are got, to masters brought. Great cunt of Manhattan, glass ziggurats fastness of sun priest Squeezing out malcontents…
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Old Cat Counts Her Winters
Not a leaf as relief from the naked season Sapped of former lustre the fullheaded were strapping as saplings Each thing in its season, springing forth wintering down Sometimes emerging and sometimes not No more trips after the first frost The undressed world How the round of the hills crystalled with frost ruddies watching cheeks…
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Alchemisland 