you might like to visit Shrimpton
in her Marazion gaf
a tasty crab & saffron tart then brill with broad beans & pancetta
choc-ice in treacle
according to the Sunday Sport
I'm burning you a classic
to stow onboard your head
my sweet tooth says I wanna
but my wisdom tooth says no
seems half a lifetime since I painted Eve
stumbling through allotment gates her fig wrapped in a soft yellow pad
of withered rhubarb leaves
Bending New Corners seemed to whisper
through her p-pod
in my sketches she too was hopelessly drawn
I scumbled powdered milk & soot into the greys her eyes required
this is neither the time nor the place to claim English poetry
has been insufficiently influenced by Lester Bowie's Serious Fun
I remember when I first saw those fascinating maps
of library LP surfaces
deft edgy pencil flicks of recent trips
hiccoughs scrapes
pissed lunges towards heaven
knows what or whom a deep trench through Rigoletto
as he wandered home in darkness
sarcasm & sweat drying somewhere
untouched between the inside of his mind & the empty night sky
Cecilia felt you couldn't have your cock & eat it in a consort of voices
had a jagged rip which sent the needle swerving inwards fast
a one-legged skater from Marston on acid
speeding straight for the only hole in the ice
the whole question of taste fucked me up for years
as I lisped & ached through lips bronze-wound strings
& dented tubing
some of the poems are sermons
some stroke purring pussies with bells on in the sun
but all of them are songs
just as all of Bach is dance
but won't be in the morning
did I ever tell you about Cecily?
autumn was brimming with mussels-in-cider
we had radiant lapfuls in warm terracotta
reflecting stars
& a watchful blonde from Finistère she photographed migrating birds
had to catch the midnight train
the paper glued inside the box lid
showed sparse hieroglyphs & arcane strokes
on an otherwise white ground
drawings of sin on the soul
birds assembling to leave
an improvised notation of improvisation
I sometimes see Maderno's statue in the night her obsession with virginity
was partly her distaste for knackers & crannies
partly the spectre of the Madonna
but mainly wanting to wake up dead
turned & tuned into nothing but art
Norfolk December 2006