If you think real hard, maybe we can stop this rain. . .
backlit
shelter ads defeat
normalised bundles of early light
spun through rain cloud
giving way
to a deepening
sense of fluid
time-stamped halfway up your heart
is the shambles of trance
and those many corrugated Hoover tubes
leading nowhere in particular
are carrying deft messages of vitality and sin
The Truth Bunny
is out there on the vast sloping verge
her huge gaze set towards the sun
The Tooth Fairy
dangles her bare legs
from the armrests of the dentist's chair
she checks her palm for milky lists
fingering furred game
her fatal apparel keyed
to amori strani
I once arrived in Brighton by butcher's van to find you pushing a piano up the stairs
the Abercrombie quartet filled an entire decade with openings
long song
sea swell and fleck
the rough-shod
vinyl notes rose
rise still now
wrapping my horse-head fiddle in vinegar and brown paper
I crouch in morning traffic on the number 91
the bus has LCDs
but no internal guttering
rain-slop swills form(s) soups
waxed tickets skid and slide
discarded forward jog
all this doesn't take nearly as long as you think
next time we're in Rome we'll have to visit Gregory Corso
and The Lads of course
our pockets stuffed and clinking with Nano Ghiacciato
Milan May – June 2007