Christopher Barnes

Oomska* 1918

“Sexual irregularity, he told his readers,
was the prime qualification for inclusion
of The Black Book.”
                 –     Hugh David on Pemberton-Billing

The underground distils its mousy faces,
Creased Macintoshes,
The constant sink of grey.
The scoop hack is cocksure,
Today shadows will blab on passable men.

A tally is growing
Of strange boo-boo passions,
Sloberers with tickling lips are on it.
A Mr. Landell of Harwich
                 –     for some obscure abstraction
and circlers of black light,
a mummy’s boy with a Windsor violet handkerchief.

The Q.C. who went slapping
His garters
Riskily jaunty,
The Colonel who splurges sunbath June
In sordid Moroccan sand.

A shuffle of cabs,
A game of find-the-lady,
Two by two omnibuses move,
A shebang of hordes,
Trams heave their numb burdens
And Christopher Charmers is careless with talk.

*Sticky dirt