Monday 10 August 2020


I put all my enemies in my top pocket
to fill a glass beneath them 
so they can look through me, 
most of them now under water refuse 
my drunk petition to sing 
to fill a glass for them to see, 
protesting today is finished 
on yesterdays broken remit 
O’ this glass of water 
would need to be of Sweet Chestnut! 
instead Rowelond and Olyver,
in good curtsy of tit for tat
breaks off in peacock feather
don't arise at the daffodils sick with 
fever until I change it to be so, 
to fill a glass to! fill one more persistent!
in temperance or anonymity I sit here 
the wood through trees in morning 
and eve, I sit here in hysteric 
masoch peasant tradition
the laggard smithed sleep with outliers
with this glass of water to be Sweet Chestnut! 

I loe to haste in brine 
my rage is kept in 
DIE HARD broken indices 
the people of England drink for me
the tin Tower of Babel 
but there is no whole body when its 
dark and lively!
phouka inebriate in fern trees 
see all the glistening bottles 
see all the mothers past Christmas
see it all in a millennial spasm!
spit it out always dark 
the distended veins on the carpet 
sobered seva not for more
but uphill the exalted court gold with piss
the eternal mark to church to sophists 
you can carry on
trust me the bracken south runs
into my mouth the noble hop
back to place like sticks and stones
kept on Aperol the dark emerald
spitting before the cuts with Keats & Shelley 
I rolled on Gramsci, he doth not sleep here 
tho but in the reef of knives
there is no sea no matin 
compulsory mirth flogging me a garden,
flogging me the sea