Local deaths, even a massacre one year.

Frozen and golden

A hare sprouts suddenly from the shingle brush

Takes off a great loping pace with the invisible

Precision of a grasshopper

Our hearts are now

Carved out of granite

Carved up and spat out

This will be the nearly last poem of the year

And here we all are vessels of blood that contain

Eyes yes meet souled hello cold friend

It’s you again

Everyday

Eyes meat soul

The sounding bells the echo location ghost

That haunt the rebounding silos impenetrable to thought

From across the muddy channel we scud stones

We could be throwing all our books too

But something stops

So off Across the fens we go past Ely

Peat black enriched field’s hold the sides of the ooozzze up

It won’t bursts its banks today peatrevereberating through the top soil

Shuddering an ancient burial mound

The captain of men Raedwald or suchlike sends back shudders

Up through the roots

Break cover we over the metal bridge

Quick into the lighthouse to usncape the thunderbolts and frozen hailstones

Pellets bounce of the car roof

Frozen we the men the armies the sighs

The gold

Eyes meet soul

Eyes meet brain meet death giving towards a time in winter when the days are shorter than you remember

Frost pains liminal expanse account

Over the phone we misheard you say

Buck Mulligan as a Mithraic hierophant

Also

An ebullient flâneur he stalked the periphery

Lending his free flowering thoughts fresh fancy and endless fascination

Of course peripheral like an out of date sauce

Up to date sources canter alongside all this as it happens

Yes, boulevards yes arcades

Benjamin and Pessoa think so to intrepid Adorno    

Observe this special spectral message a

Sudden who

In chambers beneath the burial mound

A Mithras scene scent of ambergris and ichor fills the ancient air

A grove hands and knees and feet grovelling

A disturbance

An essence

Beyond the time the temporal lobes exposure

To vast lakes of inter dimensional forms

Craven images shrouds covered over with thick dusty drapes

Thought baubles up from under

Frozen like mannequins in a dirty old outfitter

Full time horror emblazoned with an unbreakable will

By the river’s edge where the saucy water we all adore laps

Gentle at the foot of a god, an offering yes

Down on the steaming Ghats

At the mouth of the Thames the confluence of the channel

Carves evil eddies out of the brown water

This one young lad fell from Westminster bridge

Body found a week later washed up on Canvey island

You don’t forget these things

Local deaths, even a massacre one year.

the night fox kneels near


can feel hot breath


hovering in the cold

pitch dark



the sky is born

of knotted

overhanging vines

that collapse into each other

through a net of knotted collapsing canopies

twinkles hot breath giant fox distant stars

the tempo the timing
 the right to belong
the right to remain silent
the right to be a ghost

untangle a scrambled egg if you can
process a difficult emotion
observe a land crab
make it's way across a sea of glass


the increasing heart race
the overlapping thoughts
the van hire company
the forecourt is a disgrace


obfuscate defecate objurate speculate an earthquake
dub time
dub wise
dub club
broke

tend to your dream garden at night
shove shale around
pick out a weed 
hear there

here now

is a literary game

Then out came the jew's daughter
And she came all dressed in green.
" Come back, come back, you pretty little boy,
And play your ball again." 

Benjamin’s flaneur is the opposite of the original man of the crowd, he is looking for a delineated mental space where he can find true meaning, such as to ratify his life against the anterior constructs that are forced upon him by so called ‘modernity’   
  



A Distant barrel organ plays out a demented vanguard like a tape unspooling 
words run off the page and dissolve like wax

a ho hum holly-bush, whisky gown, vast lakes of nothingness
underground at night we canoe across them
it is so deep.

Haptic and covert flow animals

Begun upon an iceberg drift

Alluvial symmetrical flume

Patient dreams wait with latent speculation of gibberish bollocks

Stymied intellect blocked by years of coagulated fat

Producing a human specimen so repulsively fucked up

That any spume of thoughts that emerge could easily block drains with

Their protozoan monotones

Angry electric eels punish crabs and set up ambush situations on TV

Greased angry cadaverous shopping frenzy taking place right now

“You would not believe it, like a black mass on Oxford, can hardly say the name, Street.”

Cantankerous old fellow in the red and white

Believing is all joy apart from the pile up afterwards all

Bones

Canker

Waste Metas

Come on then we surge forth and the pitfalls of course are manifold

But it’s a golden time, made more precious be the ferric intensity

Of the years light fading

Of course, perhaps you’re right naturally I will stay to end and

Remain

Faithfully

Your Humble Servant.