Monk

It is no longer (no). Burn this minute (yes). And no longer (no). A total (yes). Figures made their mark
   rewriting the rules in the interest of self-expression. Negotiating the breakneck tempo. Discussion of
an object broke down over details. Music came to be called. Expanding the harmonic and rhythmical
   palette. Just as focused as. Just as thoroughly individual as. As knowing as. That taste: unorthodox
even: ugly beauty. Seemingly hesitant or even clumsy. He was stubborn. The cats approached. Per-
   manent revolution. Silence often spoke only, more eloquent than sound. Widely regarded as too
far. Wooden structure, like a massive clotheshorse, near that roundabout outside York. Clearer than
   ever, in hindsight. Smart move that. Bracingly dissonant. The difference between right-handed and
right-wing. White whale and white elephant. White and black. Full moon. And other names. (A pinkish
   tone.) That took some heat from his colleagues. (As who has not?) Occasionally — as is heard here —

without accompaniment. Withdrawing from the public arena. Be civil. A devoted if relatively small
   legion. Their intimate harmonies and pounding bass lines. ('One of his most intricate lines.') Master
of Arts. Celebrity was confirmed when his face appeared. Monk's Cross: cartography of melancholic
   space. It is clearer now that it was neither. Achieving that much more in terms of recognition. Well
you needn't. Some knew him. Discussing an object. Chewing the fat. Walking the walk. Smug in yr
   car. One in every three statements is a lie. Mash that pest. 'A poisonous infusion in a delicious
bowl.' 'People's sudden craving for perfume.' 'Never has that been to me an island worsted.' Playing
   close to the chest. One small feather stuck to the glass, rigid in wind (the bird hit yesterday). Be
civil. Plunging sounds of jets' manoeuvres — revving up and wired. Pass the mats. It was better the first
   time round. Way round. An infinity disclosure, stacked right up. What do you mean, a better end

to the evening? A government elects its candidate first. The fruit-trees blacken and burn. Making
   that part. A bitter pill. Pedestrian access only to numbers 9, 11, 19, 23. The bitter end (until). War
to know. A just war. Just words. Knot. You say: 'I like everything that has no style: dictionaries, pho-
   tographs, nature, myself and my paintings. (Because style is violent, and I am not violent).' Sit
behind Rob. The hardy anemone (or) enemy. Elegant-looking creatures. Mark the past. Escaped
   animals found. Billiards. Fit. Malpractice. Thyroid. Zoom. Death of others unbearable, but for your
own. Out of life comes . . . glitter. The singular and multiple, at once. And one good tern. Important
   to stay limber. Or lumber. Temper. (Punching him in the ears.) Never looking back: encroaching
plot. Possessing that good grace to go too far. To cross that line. Obese priest. 'Ignorance' is what is
   not. Ignorance is one good start. Mutual worship. In film and TV cartoons literary classics are often

improved by substituting anthropomorphised animals for human characters. Tarkovsky's Sacrifice: all
   one's life might be expressed in a single long shot, as farce. Musk the palm. A trampoline, behind the
eyes, beside the dream-pipe. Godawful noise. The pentaclast. The pencil-neck. The huge crane behind
   campus as a fishing rod. Desire for echoes. Feint. I say: 'I like everything that has no style: dic-
tionaries, photographs, nature, myself and my paintings. (Because style is violent, and I am not
   violent).' Ring the changes. When the ice-berg hit, oh they musta known / God moves on the water
(like) Casey Jones. If I may be permitted a digression. Bacon quotation. A citing. Blues. Abiding. Able
   to contend. 'Submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind.' Dream image: ice-baby, ex-
quisite in detail — fingers on hands, ungainly head, bellybutton protruding (not receding) — fated to melt
   in sunlight soon. 'JESUS IS ALIVE' in red-brick hall. Mush the paint. Death. Sleep. Night. And

stars. Long time no hear. Ice or. Nice oar. Janitor joins the dancing class. 'Nice' is nice, alas. Long time
   no ear. Mute. Underarm is underhand. Slick, spread saturations. (Why?) Wily E. Coyote's name
is mud. Mud on your floor. Wide grooves. A bypass. Printed card's terrible secret code. Robotic
   arms. Discordant concordance. Curds and whey. Spider's symmetry of legs and eyes. Passing from
all knowledge, dust to dusty (mounds and piles of stuff). Civilisation discovers alphabet. Pretty boy
   blues. His howls rebuff reproach. There's a section of Crossgate Lane, without a streetlamp, that is
dangerously dark. The nearly-always-not-enough-to-count. Mute point. That world only accessible
   by car. Overdosing on parts of speech. Mission statements. Burrs. 'Hey, clever you!' Moot. The
ancient recording, distorted — 'waiting for a quorum (gap) fast ride his horse collapsed' — the speaker
   giving out. The telephone blinks on, its constant vigil. Everybody has a file, even in the midst of

war. A Law of War. A blanket-bomb. You like that. 'Child-gimp and his pink hippo bitch.' Pub-
   lic. Mar the park. Park the mast. Greying light, lovely. Lovely pots. Naïve animals. Becoming
bulbous. Native animals. Be civil. Be pompous. Be. 'Commuting to work just got easier' (picture of
   a tank). When you talk, you make me cringe. 'Let us go into the House of the Lord'. Let's not. This
is one bad pun. Be politic. The lenses with your cursor. Lotus Professional. 'Don't spook Ian Pinder,
   because he bursts.' The streetlamp still works! (Despite being bent to the ground. What does the car
look like?) Unfeasibly erotic. Stuttering and profound. Knot the riot act. Read. Library as second
   womb. Who is your true enemy? Never/ever. Anyone can trust a child. Or not. Hands becoming
claws. Bus punches through the dark. There is a form of honesty, beyond. 'Monk's Cross is a shopping
   centre.' Vale of tears. Tiers of veils. A system hut. Exciting as anything. Overstepping the mark-

et. BBC bones. The object. The abject. The loneliest. The onliest. (Mute/Moat/Moot.) 'Stone' picks up
   a stone. Aggressive dancing. Funk to funky. State (and/or) essence. Timed. Reading is sex. Writing
is sex. Headless. Heedless. Call of nature. Quick. Sought discomfiture. Embark, O radical and vacuum-
   packed. Nothing but sympathy. The dead inhere. Life model. Unobtrusive expert. Level. Slice
of life. The razor's edge from praise to blame. Supply-and-retraction. 'What does semen taste like?'
   You have been served by 'Joy'. We have all had the same experience. Hands and arms are very
heavy. The dance of water adhering. Thanks again, as ever, for your accommodation. 'Seething' is
   evocative. (Such 'effects' are immoral.) Past as annihilation; future as backlog. The wailing pipe: get
alive. Definitely something to be said for reticence and silence. Bran and/or corn. 'Goddamn you: make
   it happen.' TV shows more real than real. Reel. More real than that. The ink o'erwhelms. Joke is

as repetition, repetition fate. Are you awake? Mute point. Premises. Grip. Step. Helicopters over
   Headingly — quite cheerful, contrapuntal, regular. Eyes invite pain. Gerhard Richter says: 'I like
everything that has no style: dictionaries, photographs, nature, myself and my paintings. (Because style
   is violent, and I am not violent).' Writing equals inspiration. Ripple. Bobble. Pimlico. Caught in
suspension. Debunked, the thinker yields. Bedunked, the biscuit melts. Disbelief suspended. Benefit
   of the doubt. Neoplasm. Neophyte. New boots/new flight. Temerity evaporates. The plains ex-
hale. Friendly and useful. Common denominator. Join your palms. '3 Billy Goats Gruff!' Lee Miller in
   Hitler's tub. Dud dud dud, der der, dud dud. Found detritus. Empathy and largesse. 'A ray of light is
shinin' through (on you & you & you & you).' The permanent home: here. Reading. Reading
   about. The right-angle triangle reprised. The truth relates, relents, recants. Nominal (it, alone, has

place). Deep blue (or) Blue, deep. Beauty obscures (or) Beauty is obscured. Which then? And the past
   contains. Make your hands into a little steeple. You have always liked yours — so versatile, yet
so dependable — like everybody's. A twitching eye (too much caffeine?). Edward Hopper's young
   wife takes the pistol from the pocket of her dressing gown and shoots herself in the doorway (mel-
odrama addict). Blow yer top, yer gasket, stack. Mount pain. Helicopters over Pickering: an odd
   sight (why?). Cloud cover. Log book. Homely as a harmonium. 'Like, we called them, dropping
bombs.' Talking without words, passing the book back and forth. Trade names. 'Momentum' is falling
   apart. The cello kicks. Bow or Bow? Slough or Slow? Dough. (Make of that what you will.) One
two three, one two three, one. Find a place to stand. (Better to lie.) (About the bit with the futon — you
   slept on one for years and never ached.) Paper beats stone. Fell energetic. Feel. 'The way I

think I think.' Desk job sexual position. Snib. The door is locked. The sink is blocked. A suit sums
   up. Friendly bus-driver extra-friendly to woman in wheelchair, chatting to her husband. Silence is
kind. Gone in 60 seconds. Got in 50 minutes. Minute detail. Freeze. Rewind. Sprung into life, then out
   again. No-more-thunder-lizard. Glass ass composer (sic). Five new pages? Brain-on-rerun. 'Answer
the question, mudskipper!' Melt the patent. (I can imagine worse things is the worst thing: is that
   happening?) Stylish star-fish. 'Hi, fishy!' Death-by-ink. Composite compost, fresh. Pics, nix. Family
fun. A life of respect and honour gets you nowhere fast fast, you're told. Disreputable. Self is given, in-
   evitable. In the dark the red light flickers, dies. The green light flickers, dies. Out. Prefers the other
notebook. Purchase. Grip. (A gap as good as a start. Step. Step. Own. Step.) Nearly ever sung. Bush-
   fire. Firestorm. (Step.) 'As far as anyone knew, [he] never touched a piano again.' Never even sang.