Tag: love
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Hidden Ritual
In 1971 the Devil released a book and an album After a millennium in the pit he had a head full of tunes Every good guitarist owing and betrothed Every decent singer owes him their throat’s gold Arousal at fame’s suggestion, their souls by deed his at the moment of their disposal All the pills…
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Barnacles
Your enemies must think you useful, they must think themselves close friends You must always be in the state of remembrance, so deep you get the bends Where a cardinal plots his zucchetto my bay fringe flops across my forehead like a common comma, like the sloping tattoo a tide slops on a golden bay…
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Prying Off The Boards
Reveal of day like a long-sought, long-thought breast unveiled I seek only completion, a quest to fetch you We apes cannot help but lech near you, wretches and curs for and before you. Four of me before me Glass backdoors light-invaded populating like a cinema screen First one, no cuckoo’s nest Next two, towers ring-obsessed…
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Periphery Blue
Border blue Quiet surface I peer right through Fathoms deep, fathomless depths Bathing weights for sounding What you feel you swaddle like a foundling What I feel you smother like a changeling The kittens of my wants drowned in the blue burlap you made from Mary’s cloak. I see storms in you, shooing away storks.…
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Dead Elephants
Dead elephant flesh undrawn creaseless under ice Buried beneath Iveagh gardens Given fatal acid doses by jolly dopers, into-situation-ropers, haunting campuses with flyers Discordian opus printed at Jim Garrison’s HQ; when the president’s head blew that guy flew a few feet off the ground making his view askew He had seeds and gardened them, he…
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Trysting and Resolved
Crying pistols at dawn down the dual carriageway Finger heavy with a jewel conferred marriageways Your strange ways vex me and these are strange days Blocks of sun-stealing flats where the bowler used to be Bowling for every birthday, arcade games when we’re sixteen Two quid pops at House of the Dead, to reload point…
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Caving
Hymns to Pan Hymns to lust Grasping sheets at satyr’s thrust Mad handed ecstasy of fumbling Dry Steppe, home to a horselord or haven to homeless Your love a great cave, soundless and immune to soundings, grave of groundlings Ground tending downwards, rifled rock like a golem’s throat The cave of your love is on…
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Sharp
Your love is like a needle Source of addiction and depredation, depraved about you Paved about you pathways to varieties of demises The miser Mike has become stranger Your love now something needful Essential affection, by conviction a conniver I will court and don your attentions Your abstention from me abhorrent, seedless like an old…
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Spiders Dreams
My father made a pleasure dome in some mad Victorian fervour He began with plants and stones until it extended further and further Beyond crude palisades of hearty piled stones Near a pansy-shored meander, where a spider makes his home. ‘Tween mossy stone and cloudy bank in a web of gossamer spun This spider sits…
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Cutting An Avenue
Love’s impossible gauntlet The Duke is sick from gimlets In bed he slumps a gauntling Around him a nightgaunt’s fret Another will not allow such play as he let The man he drank to run weighed down like a guitar fret He stayed in one room of his house as if the rest was haunted…