Wednesday, 12 January 2011

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





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