Sunday, 1 November 2009

1971, Chimes

As I placed stone on peel
I felt trickling:
a vision
the notes - melting slowly
like ice sculptures
in my mind's eye

chimes, cameras, and other whirlpools
or the stains of 1971
as I write with peel curled
under lamp.


Heavy wings of joy for autumnal
we are all diplomatic semblances
making misty, caustic allusions

the gorgeous garden of night -
brilliance of the snow,
quietness of the frost
she asked me
did I like dancehall reggae?
He had developed
something of a caustic cackle, a
pterodactyl cackle

scientists receiving blow-jobs
the codifications of despair &
grey cardigans
hello bikini
configurations of explosions
configurations of dancehall reggae
cocks inserted into assholes on these
cold wintry nights
these bleak autumnal dawns
it's windy & I'm hungover
grimace at the motionless silhouttes
of trees.


Children are frolicking on a Spanish beach. Sound of waves and quiet noise of breeze. Gradually the children absent themselves. The sky darkens suddenly, a drastic violent dusk the colour of spilled ink.

The empty wine bottles and the remote control make my thighs ache, as do all things cumbersome and prosaic and my shirt is a crystalline secret in the brilliance of the strange Spanish night.
I recall the eerie gleam of her eyes.

I am a secret vessel... coca-cola meditation and the Buddhists have the monopoly on feeling placid.
I eat food and sweat, my skin smells of medicine and the ocean.

A faint chill... a vague restlessness...
A vague yen for warmth
for some sort of warmth

beautiful grinding tedium of autumn
a diminished autumn

clocks falling off of walls in reverse
constantly startled

the world grinds on in all its tedium; everything
is at odds with everything else
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