Pieter Bruegel the Elder

Solaris

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

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

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