singing

 light is the blast
function,


her lips are like the soil
and drink whisky    


you can have me drunk
in the burrow and valley




                warm winter
my gift settlements

shell suit

caring curse

was that war lasted a month or was it a decade curses
actualized slogans impossible to resist your lovely strident
dancing boys

                       still, if i could kill you this summer love
rose up to meet with the twirling ears of golden corn, your
counties remarkable faces, switching enlisted souls.

love characteristic of our state of freedom, plant the letters
of your hex in a cool orchard, serve silently, remove unnecassary
noises, choke hold, excite in the trees / orgasmic childhood

                     memories we are still mourning the copper leaves
an indent of itself upon suspicious skin. i take it you've met
a howl of wind  ,  find him hanged in your cell by his natural
adonis. Struggle prettifies , ears prick / candid spoilt bastad pitch  .

nether regional. scrap happiness. scrap equity branches pearl
blossom considers widow below roots, eating. drink drink
my love born here raised here  tear it to pieces.

More Sapphic Fragments

*

/ walls
 approach climax
kill me

*

abuse    proxy
  a body  child
thrown
  undeterred,
mother's suckle.

//

*

the eyes violent order
rat-guard, and  remain
orbiting clarity

*

Maim from our love I was never
fair or kind. Stinging or tied, to lilt on.

*

I hope for nothing 
  to come is the sky,

man stares at the sky
and the sky stares at man.

11/12/13. 8.16 am

(Sappho)

*

                         Caged shudder
a noxious energetic pulse over
earth,   that   is    natural,  loss.

*

Love makes me tremble yet again
the earth's fallings, all this eating endlessly

cunt of / smothered to voice
is a decree against / point of, numbing moon 

*

Aspects delightedly opposed. But
this face starts at a lower border
controls nothing, has drinking.



Ewige Blumenkraft

From a Call(ish)

The first couple of lines of this were written in collaboration with Robert Kiely. Daniel Spicer was present in the document for a while.

Here’s a rusk, baby. I like you!! It is reciprocated. Off I go. x       a

thanks and tara. xx

sing with me Isis sing with me Spektor sing with me Winston sing with me Monad sting with me

Russell hunt with my chopper sing with me Katie Hopkins us with me Twerk twerk star of

us singstar star on us Isis honourary Pecting with me sing green the rushes ugh sing ugh

ugh with me ugh ugh o computer boys sing with me foam party pundit raptured to a manifest

body spirit and soul bullshit soul shit in lake in poem language shit and sting with me sister

of Neptune’s flagrant wanking MS doc singer songwriter balloon confection massed

populist flarf gabbers sing with me cthylla daughter of cthulu car pooling motherfuckers

sing of the Lindsay stars sing with me Spicer pour over me waters of daughters of Cthylla

songs sing without raptures work makes me volatile to astrictive limit love with me

stupid town of my <3 <3 sing with me stamner crock of catheter soul with signing us suck

of balloon bile I saw gently prynne with me Isis skim in the lizard’s fire skip to the duct

where a patient ward-waltzes trapped in the catheter stage of teenage love examination and

as she pulls up to the window stares down to amassed cars, curls up by amassed windows

sings

to the hospital’s confection, edges of increased neon hospital lamps, lactic as you like

stays steady in the front stage of mourning the hospital sleeps in drips of lactic light as

you stay steadied by amassed cars and call songs sing to me spirits / Isis-grunt

scronk over to the bed. Sit down my love. Can you hear me my love. I want you

to know that everything’s going to be a-okay (oh fuck) my love. Hello? Can you

(oh useless) do you love me my love. bleep in quick steadies flat again bleep again (oh oh!)

hello? my love? do you love me my love before it’s (oh too late - dead - flat… hang about

… bleep) still there then. still hanging in there like a proper little trooper my love

child. rats rats rats eh? okay then wait is that a flat line again okay i’ll just be hanging

up my coat, rolling up the paper and heading out of the room, phew. little hand

soap. antiseptic. alcohols. oh wait. bleep. fuck sake. can you hear me my love? is that

a book you’ve been reading? shall i read it to you? okay: ‘here here dead dead church

falls by rote is the direction of your eye to me  me sing *bleep*’ jesus how long you

hanging about this neck around neck so long sucker no wait there’s that … wait she’s

not coming back is she. doctor  want an honest well not honest but you know what i

sing Isis sing dark’s slash away at such remarks sparks fall from lactic lights wait who are

you in this bed anyways not my love or thing or you awake can you hear me my love

lights and stands in lactic dross by the corporeal damage scatters. graph graph. god. need

to go to buy sudocrem soon when will she snap out god just cleanse in minimal altruism

need it a formal labour crossing doctor doctor i feel like a victim of the current and usual

conditions of living. of fuck off will you i’m trying to *bleep* out of my control so there

shove it where it hurts her every time the bell strikes for the end of visiting time don’t

you listen this is inside north tower royal sussex hospital at 2.23 pm and you shouldn’t

even be here who is my daughter talking to when i’m not about is it the polycyst i knew

we should have kept an eye on that stuff my love my love move your mouth for me little

stars wink under the peripheral don’t you know oh go to heck it something more substantial

for my daughter day is a dream in the pitch of the room she streaks fuck. they. streaks.

them. hen. they are my child no not posessing and that see this is me i want to try to understand

all that stuff they’ve been telling her down at the college du polycyst used to be a caaaaaraar

y’know it al =’s in the eyes of gawd when you going not a penny to yer name a price bastad

little brackets everywhere little cock little panties all made used to be a car cararar used

TW all make senses senses purring like a lactic lamp in lifeless love and feigning reasonable

vigour this is the mark of the time and the rain smatts onto slats in my plaits you dumb twats

ad your prats in spats over scraps and fap faps having craps to collapse in an email elapsed

time. hmm. not a pleasant thought but a cusp of one morning i woke up this child of mine

in a crash helmet wrapped neck in a strip of ribbon making barking noises watching an episode

of Katie Hopkins in a massive can can firework ISIS loop and what was the 23 big in black

letters one for each breast and bollock that kinda thing throws me off cos I’m a man of my time

and my time is NEVER NEVER now is the time of the children of Bodom of of Isisisisis cornered

sing with me now.

Dear Frank

when did i last see you it was at that poetry thing
i felt so stupid. i shouldn't really have been there
rosy does me a lot of favours. but anyway, the thing
that i read from that night was called 'the flesh
called fwan'. it was a long collaboration. i thought
people might find it funny. there's a really precious
level of expectancy around these things though. from
                                                                    each angle.

i'm sorry to hear you've been getting pissed off with all those marxists. they can be infuriating. i spent a while this morning reading responses from friends and acquaintances about a conference they recently went to. all this venom spewing back and forth. i don't think a lot of them can countenance the idea of what it looks like from outside the academy. i know i couldn't. i still can't. i'm a little jaded and fooling myself. i'm listening to the most terrible music just now. do you know the band m83? i heard them when i was a teenager and thought they were kind of monumental. they sounds so clean like polished diamonds. i think the thing is
failure again. ambitions are set out like fucking
huge hollow pillars and the manifest thoughts
are just untame birds very hard
to care for these structures / replacements
i like writing to people. since my application was rejected
i've had to have a little think about what to do with everything and my writing has changed a lot. i'm glad of that. it's making me laugh again. oh wait, ban that. what are you reading these days? how's the whole thing treating you? we have to think about jobs too. being an academic marxist is a career choice. i'll probably get some snotty emails, or have some snotty emails written about me for saying that. but it's true. i've spent a lot of tappering on 'career poets', but really all these critic/poets are careerists too. we are all looking for careers. or at least jobs. that's too screwingly obvious. but part of the career path we're talking about is the kind of career where you are employed for your critical capabilities. that's an odd position to be in. 'your job is to say more or less what you want about the current conditions. so long as you stay in employment'. i don't really know what i think, but i know that a year ago i would be rushing to the defense of the people you are attacking. now i'm really unable to do that without feeling quite hollow and wrong. what about this too.

signal ---- signals.     & & helplines pause to
remunerate    costly       ) and advantage is
   pressed in the hand   / lawyer lawyers of
____choose signals ---- break up the light form
fingers as i choke //// on sex     to growl groooowl


so we can helplines to ring we can listen to these smartvoice, dear frank, but hell boils. what doesn't bother you makes...

oh i dunno really. i've got all these catalogues for children's clothes and toys. all pc and yummy. there's nothing good in there though. i'm going to the big boots in town (the one by the clocktower). that place is great. i'll cover myself in all the perfume!

choo choo! xx

Child Speak

After R.D. Laing, after Danny Hayward and somehow with Kate and Jonny

(for two performers, paragraph breaks mark the alternation between Chile 1 and Child. Child 1 begins the dialogue.)

Hello. Hi there. Yes, where are we, ah yes, Tuesday. On Tuesday you are writing again and thinking about other types of employment. Ones you'd be willing to do. Okay then. A form of labour might be, say, walking about. Moving along. Being employed in the act of a centred mobility. That will include taking maybe one thing from its place to another place. That's so often how these things work. These things are here in the ground. Take them out of it. Take them to a place where they will be taken to a place to be placed in a place and burnt which is another form of taking from one place to another only this time that taking is taking single things apart from one another as well as apart from their place in the earth. They are taken into the air where they disperse and eventually settle and reform into the ground. This is not entropy. Luckily for you there's not much of a chance of that form of labour. Hello there. Yes. Hiya. So good to finally speak. I think we're getting somewhere. Oh, you want to go out and smoke then. Okay I'll wait here then. Prodigal!

Fuck your living. You two are great friends now, right? So that's okay, but we're not. I feel very alienated. That's my reality. What's your reality? Isn't it great how we can just you know just know you know what you know. Reality questers. Prod prod. What I want from myself... My reality is... That you fuck up... Get it. Through your grey
no
we deal here with
problems like
the problems in products nay production here in my hand is a cordless drill bit of the curtain here is who it is made of and the fibres that connect in it are like us little one it's just my reality this but the way I see it is that the final thing emerged as it was is through the weave moving one thing from one space into another well no shit you're thick you are anyway, it's Tuesday. I'm looking for work. I'm willing to do that kind of work now. Will you help me to do it. Yes. Fuck it. Prod.

Noon is a key reel.

Have you paid handsomely. What're you watching?

Adults.

Have you done memory yet? We did it  and we had to draw a picture of it and it looked like with all these swirling colours over the paper when you crayon so hard that there is a kind of shiny screen of layered colour I drew you. I'm tired of the pain in my heart. I was in a really dark place. It was just a new person to suffer. For I have gone from city to city I pointed the gun straight at him all the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up like glue and you're going to kill me with all my hear I want to leave you with the truth and that is that we are kin you and I exclusion we are all and not all at all we are deluded constantly and produced fuckably lovely and all over the floor our production is the cause and symptom of our violence I never want to hear again in fact I go more and more blind and speak in whispers over the car pool you run at me your mouth a flame of choice and freedom your reality paste a slot gunship bullies past and I am weeping. I am real. I will probably keep this going. Prodz.

x

xx