throttling the hayhem of my other
in women's petticoats kneeling by the 7 up
realigned the keel of the planet earth
20 degree shift to the north of desire
dying the squid ink of his eyes
from the rhino horn of his sales patter
barmy cool if it matters 'poor sick bastard'
'you've fucking got the better of me'
another coronation of yours truly
by the nightmare of the vixen's desire
we're getting on and we shall wear our trousers slack
moses the lawgiver in other words
and our antennae beam back in the tooth of our implant
'thief of time enemy absolute wretched sinner
contemptible vile beast that you are, repent; for the
time is nigh, when thou shalt be unredeemed though purged through fires in hell.'
and he will dash your face into the trough once again.

memorialise each moment of madness
turn each vesicle into a video camera
each testicle into an auratic dipstick
each foot into an orgone bath
and each head into mercator's projection
summon the princes of your absolute
the truth abiding in the membrane
between the living and the dead
the democracy of brotherhood in damnation
and all the other pathetic alibis for communication diplomas
speak to the insane, tear their trousers
and see for yourselves that their gristle is as good as your bone.

voodoo grammar sonnet
cleave to my present
this grey jar of the excellent absence
heart void mind numb hope deaf
we stagger along the british pavement
a patriotic schizo
with lonsdale in our walk
to the casino cafe
bull pride in the awed destruction ball and chain
of the mirror image in the toilet bowl
the signs and emblems of another arrogance
swirling coming to a halt transfiguring the economy
so that we say fuck it and hide from a passing truck

so no more go a roving on that fateful night
ditched in the quarry of your vespa accident
the stars doubtless also
figure another venture into entropy
recollection of a recollection of tepid water
or some other sound of uncle profligate
bursting the walls of your cranium over the dishes
hypnagogic stravage through the cote d'azur notwithstanding
your destiny in a cave your life in an eyeball
english pekoe tea on the deranged shelf
'so i'm fucking tin, man'
the nice hotel esplanade from the pebbles under napoleonic cannon
(that 's for history lovers)
hag's laugh over coffee brewed over cinders
in a charcoal grill
that memory transfigures the junk
into the tightening noose of newsprint round my throat

coltrane's africa
configuring ceaselessly the grammar of the elements
darts of silver into the ink of the skull
permutating and combining the skip in the rung
seeking the exit from this forest of cliches
through which the one true trail passes
in that moment alone necessitated through negation
and sundry other mystifications
(you will excuse once again the rhyme)
and into the sequence that started with a grain of intuition
so the promise of another loops and fornicates with its progenitor
end all sin by decree
marry it and throw it in the junk when you're finished