Voyeur in the ShowerSomewhere south of Nimesin the hot evening i went to the campsite shower The cool water sparkled over my skin till i turned a tap and the warm water soothed into my muscles There on the wall quite a shock i saw this green ah yes you don't catch me plastic frog with big white plastic warts on the end of his webs to stick him to the wall Some joker he was right thought he'd make me jump but I'm not squeamish, I soothed soap into my neck and shoulders letting the warm water roll down me I reached for the tap turned it off and towel and poked the plastic frog which promptly crawled up the wall perched on the pipe and peered at me Some plastic joker he was right thought he'd make me jump |
Above CairoWavelets of sandamong the toes of trees. The green long leaves loosen dropping their dust silently while the white moon moves softly onto her back relaxing her cool breasts pointed like new pyramids of spring |
Drunk in RussiaYou may jump into the airand sing about the stars but sooner or later you must fall back on mother earth Russia is where you stand she is silent for a while maybe you think she is dreaming but she is solid When the frost is hard she hears you kicking and laughs when you try to kick her teeth in When the spring glistens and you push your girl's back into the grass you can feel the swell of the ground beneath you Smash her beautiful hair tip acid down her long smooth legs blast craters in her breasts and cover her face with blood She may heave and cry a little she may be sad but she is still beneath you in her loving hands the golden corn Written outside Moscow after reading Alexander Blok and drinking several bottles of vodka with my new friends. |
Food For FreeHand slowlyand methodically up her legs her pants light green like new translucent beech leaves i crush crinkle in my grasp there's more beneath I bite her flesh it tastes ground chicory, dandelion root and beech leaves you know i bite some more you don't? then i'll give you her number and you can get into roots and see those beech leaves crinkled over her like transparent smack her little bottom when it twitchesferns across her Number? not now i'm busy  Hand
slowlyand methodicallyup |
A Short History of the WorldI build my houseon paper in the evenings when the bright light from my eyes dazzles the room My future comes slowly into focus on the sensitive paper. One day it will fit me like an alarm clock ringing I build my house of bricks my hands are on the walls my children fill the rooms and time sits snugly round me till the bombs of hatred smash it and the stinking fingers of avarice tear every shred away I build my house inside my head dreaming in the evenings Time is out of phase but in the small silence the frames of time fit together until the armies of the vandal world march over me and crush the beauty in my head squeezing in irrelevant trivia where my soul should be I build my house in a bubble I hide behind the moon and leave my body's patch of ground a vacant lot where other fools may fight and when I would prove my soul is still alive I stretch to pull the slender thread and there my house pale like the red moon misty over the sloping vineyard but you will never see the thread |
Moonrise Over VineyardI feel under your green blouzesteal your fruit while the red moon blows gently away from her moorings Tie me with a thread and let me float behind |
October's GoneOctober was green and gold, thenA man could stay out at nights and Still come home in the early dawn with no feelings of alarm That the rheum across his eye was the early warning of a wheeze. The days are shorter now, and strewn with Germs coughed out by the whistling kids Home from school. Off-white handkerchiefs have made the grade of late. First a sniff, delicately now restrained, trying to staunch the flow, Soon piles of soggy bog-roll everywhere, green phlegm in the sink, and red sores leer From beneath a swollen nose. Then Drip by drip the long siege begins; While the back of your nose, and your throat are hacked by coughing pincers of slate; Hacked by pincers of red hot slate, And vitamin C is now much too late. * This of course is a pastiche of the Ted Hughes poem October Dawn |
Old Man's LovesongYou have grown oldthe red string sends out feelers over your sharp riveted skin the red string grows darkens goes hard like dried blood I remember when your eyes were cool dark pools I looked into those dark places where all my future lay bright like buried treasure Now there is a net in your eyes a thin slippery red net an old man drags it along and look as he may the treasure has gone like sand from a timer |
SuccessI knew success waswaiting for me in the same old place just around the corner but i could never see which corner hid the glitter and the fame and anyway a tough wind blew hard in my face and there were dragons in my mind i dared not fight And now maybe as you listen you can hear the small sad whimper that was once a battle cry as success still just around the corner waits for someone else |
Oh What a Lovely WarI dreamedthere were paper dolls dancing by the riverbank and there above the giant spider trees the wanton moon sank a monk with his bright paper halo touching the tops of trees with yellow I dreamed that all along the riverbank lay starch dolls faces greened and hideous with red ivied atolls Please my dream-maker take away the red ivy from their faces and tell the band to play again under the bright paper halo. |
RicorsoAt the end of the daythe silence which passes all understanding and seeks the soul to clean, rejuvenate and prime the silence which washes out all ears At the end of the day i hear the silence all around me and i tiptoe in Darkness at the close of day darkness i can sit and watch the darkness which cleans the eyes of aimless flicker enfolds the soul and pads the silence i hear no world see no world i feel no world Hush i am growing again |
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