Friday, 28 May 2010
pick a world and become the person who inhabits it
the moon is a great poem to be had
we walk upon her like sharpened pencils
titillating pogo sticks bouncing off
cosmonautic leftovers
the earth is a great poem to be had
and had we not tired so soon
we would surely see her
reposing on the pages
of a very worn book
the ocean is a great poem to be had
and jacques costeau is smiling
the heavens is a great poem to be had
and when we grow real bodies
from real words
she can read us
reading ourselves
---
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Monday, 17 May 2010
calling all locusts
trapped here, like emotional dead weight, overweight
a pedophile troll under admiralbrucke, perceived as sensational siren by some birds
chanting away, old melodic fairytale
dancing feet rolled up like corn dogs and barely warm, ashes of burnt flags drawing new maps on worn jeans
un-christian territories spattered by unexpected urinal outbursts, the semi-messiah, pee stains and swans gobbling, now ready to try flesh
corals dropping from every sanctified orifice
all ferrymen put to work on clogged canals
coins trapped in sticky pockets
morpheus now morphii, morphed like everything else into everything
abandoned to the heavy salvation of wasted onlookers
looking, surely not into eyes
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Sunday, 9 May 2010
pioneers without a frontier
i have feared this poem
roaming dim corridors
looking for an outstretched
body
a sick mattress
desperate to inject itself
into a functional vein
and find hiding
in already poetry-ridden
arteries
"the last hit"
is the name it bears
and it goes like this
"there once was a man..
there once was a man.."
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