Tuesday 20 October 2020



Private detectives/geneticists 

an etched out muset in scale free networks

a thousand petty grievances

change that and fix dynamics 

in human contracts make them

break with our ethos, make them disappear 

in old moons, the baby traffic from elite homes 

where history shows rancour in a heirloom, 

to gaze on a genome from Barnard Castle 

silvery white herald moths 

all fall in a pile of out-groups

remaining get route brained-fix fucked 

to brand diviners reject piddle rushers 

coupon your phlegm customarily 

out puffed ardent cup-bearing liege man 

swine of lapsed English intelligence!  

Jack-in-office burrowed deep 

in cheap frozen yogurt 

ask yourself to be or to do!

peel back skin look demented feed out

of maniac milk, gene tree cometh sprightly 

Robert Heinlein at the Gates of Salamis,

crashing out a stammer bags the rational 

fraction to fragile refinement 

look piss-head its global warfare, 

light up the fuckers, race to the top 

by lonely song geared and warm 

in bluebell light ameliorate 

the grim cycle fMRI scans of people 

playing financial crisis, beys his money keep

firebreaks prediction becomes impossible

unhinging my rubber hand to joy 

of macro-scale tightly coupled at 

the safety gates remember rain in Leeds

on your closing lids 

a stony wind, now tyre thick love

hemmed at Law and the people mantis 

wait in malediction I'm sat on colluding loam 

steely misery every line revised 

and bent of care look at naked floorboards  

and wondered, trying half remembering 

to do the knuckle-down or besmirch 

pride as punishment the quality of heat 

ringed out as harness of mine and my own,

a clearer sheet of morning lute 

over the ordinary sun and be

not with this nerve gaggle 

piquing on nights in wet tremens 

or as if this won't wait for me

a hurried bangle of jute and ulcers clawed up,

of course it will wait its willing neck! as it pangs 

gladly prig my ear my national jeremiad 

in representing no people
o'ere the mess crossbred before we set sail
on stewed grass so green 
the sad equals will not calibrate