Suitcase Poems
Monday, 11 February 2013
As Henry Said
As Henry said
what could be here
is there to him her
or that dog with a cocked leg
shoulder in oven
white rain layers
I go on
My footsteps tick
and tick
no stop
tock
cider and stock
for the beast
for me
as cornered children
shout and run
skip
kick
slip
playing?...
Our bedroom
now
without the heart I
lay with
without inamorta
Unsterbliche Geliebte
The pillows puffed
Covers stretched to corners
I leave with later
We'll be couverts
Sunday, 28 October 2012
Hailstorm in Chalon
breezing outta the upstairs changing room
hair blowing, scented
like a slowed down music video
radio station static
tout droit
wire's in a coeur corner
head hail:
made up
arriving at the station
ax wound weeping
I'll palm the patch
before piscine
a pig (not dio)
a shaved man on a run down road
eating a bunch of grapes
an apple (balled by a melon)
it's obvious
that my feet aren't in politics
unless
your set lips
cause allergies
Friday, 19 October 2012
Table For... You?
Table for two?
No.
One.
One more
Hit wonder
One liners
Born every minute
Une nuit
Yeah, one piece
Suit for sharing
One eyed jacks
And up
In a million
One on one
One off
For all
An eye or shoe
Pair of pearls
Where's my shoe?
One pound
Of prickly pears
One egg missing
A room
One way
Cul de sac cunt
No return
1 above
Above none
You
Not some
Sunday, 30 September 2012
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Sea Legs
As he packed up
Leaving behind remnants and cobwebs
And tenancy dust
We broke this bed:
Support straps snapped
The map of France flopped
Ships in the sea
The legs gave way.
Saturday, 4 August 2012
Tourists at Petit Dejuner
All showered, shitted and shaved
Armpits, pussies, legs
Men in denim
Shorts and shirts
(all with hair)
At 7 a.m there's no one
Younger than me
I'm on concentrated juice
And coffee, no sugar
They stack plates:
Ham, jam, pastries
How saccharine
These couples that have
Curled and cuddled
As I curdle without G
My guarantee
I can't help from looking outside
We get a taxi to the airport
And abandon
We don't book
Or research
We go where we see
A sea from a room
I get up and groom
Clip and nip and lay
On marble
Waiting for a breakfast
Of honey
Ham
and sugar.
Wednesday, 1 August 2012
LIPSINKING
These are lyrics to cervelle musique
(avec ou sans capers)
I'm in Seville kicking peeled orange skins
At pigeons that don't know where
Worms wiggle.
My kidless kidneys dance
On the other foot
The white robe worn
Is a hotel bathrobe
My hand in my pocket
Feeds snails named Alanis
and Anaïs
Who else: Henry Miller.
And after
Plucked from the garden
Fucked into a brown bucket
To shit it all out:
A detox for death to be delectable.
My pupils have been lessoned
Regarding this photo of us
It opens my pours
I'd swear on the heart of Christ
If i'd jamais met 23 versions of your shape
And look my search would constantly
Be to try and find a switch to finger
Not a trigger
But you are
A floodlight.
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