Moorgate rains ethanol fluid
turns the mourning out of earth
where I wander staked out for
scatological rites of all nations
under corporate umbrellas
staked out for flesh of welded indices
in multiple deprivations,
staked out like a charred linnet buff
burning for burnings sake
hammered on this oneiric NCP London clay
our bellum mouth runs around
the deregulated Square Mile
Roman city boundaries its ‘Corporation’
65,000 cubic metres of soil taken
for more Bronze long-limbed hares
CLC veneers
elected representatives
& its arcane
Common Councilmen,
milk-paled Aldermen, sallow sheriffs
& Lord from Medieval guilds a jasmine flower
stuck behind your ears;
air-kissing the profoundest carrion
IF THERE’S A HELL,
I’VE LIVED TO SEE IT
jack-knifed the bend of a hockey stick
an act of revenge against society
forever perfumes bloody naked warmth
into the sand-drag that blows Tbilisi rose
off pleasant ayres.
The Office Group’s unique ‘club’ environment
curses in the evening light
descends city quarter
peal, a greater & emptier lease
for you doorstopper
the regeneration scheme has stolen
our municipal chairs to share
how are we to serving as a circuit breaker,
that in all cases from cursing at the light?
an uplift, bursts of punitiveness–
are turned to the beloved,
& now live on rake thin
low resolution mirrors
on an access threshold
the slow curdle of light
lulls me in damp,
wet-winged brooding out bin-bags
you ask ‘why’d you keep fluttering here?
survived to a little force,
like tar & this is fucked roadmap?
starred filing to desist in the portcullis
as accoutrements meet roses curved
in burning words are truest,
& in warbling unrest
– especially at night,
when you can’t see
hypertrophied apartment blocks
rolling over occasionally sublime
waiting on each little unit
to be yours alone & forever
not Equity Shared.
