Wednesday, 12 January 2011

Chris Burden




































Hose down that pretty mouth





Strangers/stranger – the black lines descend
Channel hope into sea pearls, whitewash ornament
Coloured grief patches outstretched, remembering the peace you made, cut adrift
A snow blossom of patchwork ire, goblets of confusion by a dirty mare bed
Sink black teeth into Delaware and glance
At pocketbook confessions before the blood runs out
Keep dreaming, hose down that pretty mouth, the strain of show, watch the woods
Creeping the awkward flesh standing without the hand of matter, of role
Chewed off an ear, to replace by breakfast
With a siren who performs fellatio on the children of royalty
Eating and eating, the cage will wait
Hope knows no confession like a good goose, a timepiece for hope
Lines/black through the mounds of shapes, hair follicles suspended on sticks
Grunting oars, shimmering a black elastic lake
Kind old bear, waiting for the Dorothy spine  
The cutball host, shopping for the way through the mirror
He is seen - a walker, a broker, a deathtrap, a note
A nosebag for Dobbin
A celestial spire





Monday, 10 January 2011

Holocaust in a child's hand





Watch out for madness
Poke you in the face/like shark fin, broken bottle in stomach
Slideshow, a thousand faces in a blue lake, I watch the breeze
No one to call, no hand to hold, no saviour of light, no trapdoor to sunlight
On top of a mountain, I chewed the nightingale’s heart
I roped the donkey to my back and carried it to the creator
Golden gun in my hand/doctor of the watch/wipe away dust
The outstretched hand/hacked arms
A blanket of birds beating at the dawn, upside down harmonies/black cause
Catch the sun – wink, bleed, polecats tearing at the cumshot memory
I raped the moon/I burned the daughter, whiskers on white skin, peaches
Sunset/sunrise/pearls in black ash - commandeer the alphabet
26 lies
Watch out for madness, like a dream bitch/weirdo, cut off your eyebrows
No need/need/no need/need/no need/need/no need/need/trays
Of silver summer, of the horse rider through the mountain of guns/white
Lines down the air, a throat in limelight – invisible man always around
Father, father, father – dead before the sunrise, holocaust in a child’s hand
Watch the hunter, he knows the perfect position for kidnapped runts
Sliding/purple dogs on barbed wire/cough and the world explodes
Do you know the sun? Sticky with the night, your perfect life will fall like a kite





Sunday, 9 January 2011

A trampoline for dead birds





Dog in a manger/God in a stranger
Haunted/haunting
Cast adrift, opal sea stones let light into the sepia wash
Bring the grand exit one step, cancel the white rope
Australian orchid, lifelines beneath granite in search of the child
Beckoning sun Arab journeyman concert
Tie stones to the wings of sparrows, a cough from a sandpiper
Wielding the guns of October, shadows of the doll maker mind
Overboard into blasphemous waters, opaque carrion of the blank apparel
Sugar guts/champion of the syphilis sun/murder chair
Alone in the zone, waterbed falsetto condition of the lock
Canonise a sacred goat, hooves under velvet
Stabbing at the remainder, tired blue ostrich on snow
Rolling downhill one breath at a time
Sister of mine and thine/a trampoline for dead birds
Broken-down car in France, near Cannes
Landslide/ghost in the cave by the water
I watched a blue girl turn into sand
Candles and candles, a watcher of the dawns, a sea spray confession
Hold hands with the harpy, sing/the waiter behind the door
Has custard on the blood on his hands





Saturday, 8 January 2011

Last House on Dead End Street











































Polar bear on girl





Skinning friends, scalping friends
Murder game, little knocker in the bluebottle cockle
Teeth and hair/hair and teeth, sinking
A balding man in a garage, weather in his veins
A cockroach on a turtle, pop music hardon
Singed wing, ting ting ting
Oyster in a drawer/open the curtains, Mummy
Are you fat? What is fat? Conquered this opinion, easy
My face is coming off
Have you seen hoppers in the radar? Moist wall/wall
Tickertape parade of fingertips, light in suspense, walking arms
Shave your eyes, Terence\Can you hear me, Pollyanna?
What’s up doc? Playing yo-yo with a dirty egg
The world is inside the world is inside the world is inside the world is inside the 
world is inside the world is inside the world is inside the world is inside the world is 
inside
Butter that memory, I want honey on my second skin
If it peels, what will I feel? Come off it/drink
Take part in this water –
Dissolve, Russian doll, limbless, a bloody tree
Copy your friends and put them on new horror faces
The dust is settled, let’s play Chequers
Ha ha, I’m England til I die
Beast/grasshopper/grunt/goal/weasel/porpoise/time/mine
Singing all the ladies have got hairy legs this semester
Polar bear on girl




Thursday, 6 January 2011

You were always fun in the water





Thanks for the reminder
A long face is still a face
I kiss buttons                                                 I wish
Waiting for the overlong
The colour of mercy                                        regret
A stream in my body, a rosebush
Wouldn’t it be nice?
I’m let out sometimes                                      and then I go back in
Metal sheet music – a face amongst faces
Ride the hyena while
Cough syrup – defective
I was watching her all the time
Dropping eggs from the high rise
Looked like Lady Godiva on stilts
I could have spent more time listening to her
More time
A cutlass, no more
A black body lying in the ditch
Nobody sees it moving but I do
A pencil in my hand
Revolver in my dream                                      tick tock
Wearing the shades of yesterday, my tomorrow has become a statue
I could lick the stone
My arms and legs are moving
She came and I cleared up
A dead body by the swimming pool
You were always fun in the water
Your underwater camera got water in it
I could touch you in those days
Now I am pretending to be happy so much I don’t know where the day ends




Monday, 3 January 2011

Why man is a lonely drug





Too many heartbeats/not enough heartbeats
Rhythm is all out
                           the walkers are talkers
Disruption of fecal matters
Brand                     I am a doorstep to dawn
At night I am a golden eagle
                               Have you seen the sign?
A wheatfield on fire
A parachute on water
Combine various elements, set them free
                                The rat-a-tat of history is your undertaker
Meet a maker, shake a tin
                          This is murder, I cannot forget the foreign dew
Her remains are locked in the padded cell
I have a key to her horror
                                      She knows Christ, and every sailor
Every carpenter who slips on shocks
               I am awake to marvellous guns, to heresy, flocks
Of bastard swans are hanging from a hydrogen balloon
I pick them off, one by one
                               They fall and fly
                                Like teardrops
                                Their wings are creosote dreams
                                Sometimes I lie awake dreaming of this




Sunday, 2 January 2011

Dark and lonely water




Rabbit hutch with a man inside





Spit/spite
A Demian in the undressing
A hollow post
                              Grand tournament of the shallow ones
Cathedral on fire, castanets shaking on coffin lids
Purple ducks falling from the back of a rubbish lorry
Paws of cats in plastic bags
                                          Tip toe, horror of the ghosts
The Chinese lock, rabbit hutch with a man inside
                                                      Fingers like lead
                                                      Chocolate drops, bleeding nose
                                                      Twitching like Orinoco
A calm day on calm seas
                                    Floating on the water, what’s left of the water
                                    Cannonballs in the sky, suspended, there’s a
Slow silver sound
The geese are wrapped around themselves
                                         Stopwatch – it’s God
                                         Remember the cotton wool
You punctured your life! Whoops – is that a curse?
I seem like I did
                           The rabbits are fucking each other
                           They like it
                           I like to watch them, I like to watch them
                           I like to watch them
                           I like to watch them




Saturday, 1 January 2011

The lonely boy on the box





Tit for tat, the front is back
Assassin ate        I am a coffin in a doorway
Your fingers are sticky with catnip, lucky
It’s lucky to be lucky – do you feel, lucky?
                    I am a baa baa
                                     In the sheep pen on a black hill
The black sky and the black arms of God
                                    seal windows in the sky
You forgive me/forgive me                            I am a dust cloud
A mouthful of dreams
                                    waking up in the wonderland
                                                                     I cut open a mosquito
A music box of diamond-encrusted sound
I put a knife into a keyboard
It bled thick black notes, and the whitest tears
                           Passive – aggressive – the lonely boy on the box
What’s in the box?
                           It’s only half of her
                           The other half is in the sink, or something
You lost your way home on the way to Tipperary
                              Singing all the white girls are turning red
                              Singing all the black girls are black tanks