POEMS FOR DUAL OUTLETS (2015/6)

 

The following poems were written during a period where I first began to think of writing poetry. I saw that as a sort of remedy to feelings, over-feeling or the issues systematic to this. I found, through a sort of incident that maybe my exiting of art 'work' could come by becoming a poet. I sought to make this happen by locating employment near a largely vocational university library. It brought gifts mainly in the form of an era of writing, to which I had full access. Books that no longer appear on search engines, that time forgot about it seems. During this period, I took to having evenings after in the Lib, on small recreational drugs that made me buzz, combined with Waitrose coffee shots made free by some other purchase. I sat & tried to lend my ear to things I likely had no reason to be lending my ear to. I believe I was fighting for this right, strangely through a sort of resilient oddness. Entering a library that I was not allowed to be in, since it was a private library for fee-paying students. I gained access through incident of being employed by the other, larger University that provided me with an internet connection. From here, I read Pound, Eliot, Kenner, Joyce & others. I then decided, via listening to Sutherland's Vimeo page to put this exertion to the effects of poetry. I had been reading what was coming out of Brighton at the time, Joe Luna's writing on Sutherland & pain became a major voltage. I started Littlehammers as there was really nowhere I thought I could functionally write out this complex syndrome, or this compulsion. It initially allowed me to see what I had written, with all the errors up there. I could re-write them, since only Chinese spy bots were apparently viewing them. I slowly could write with the 'unfreedom', I could occupy with some dignity the constriction that allowed me to personally boycott being lead to compromised situations. I never seem to avoid the personal atrocity exhibition of compromised life, I am maybe self-condemned to this & have to find the resilience in the pattern. I believe little hammers is the only important thing I have 'invented', as I think it is some kind of invention. It is a place that I go to when there is nothing, when everything has been taken away from me materially, emotionally, mentally. When I am exhausted, abused, self-loathing, on the brink of doing something that I cannot 'mend'. I look at this strange sandworms, these lesions, these circular metastatic enteries. I can see where I was, or what I was thinking in 2019, on a Tuesday in April. I can see all those etiolated abbreviations of my unself, versioned in something like a serrated edge to the world. I can quietly know. Who knows how to hide, knows how to love. 

POEMS FOR DUAL OUTLETS (2015/6)

(1)

I was asleep or in                                               

contempt   for  nature                           

eviscerated chicken some   

twenty-versions had                    

the colours dreadful given                

way to the poor who have                          

without colours eaten                                                              

arms akimbo do not interrupt                                              

intrusive for euphony

(2)

A hand helps 

the migrating motor complex 

lift flecks of parsley  

garlic butter bits 

of chopped red pepper  

parboiled tomatoes squeezed into 

a little bolus 

down with garnish 

and between the patricians  

and stomach  

a fitting comestible   

mass feeling potential life  

(3)

Thrown from roof 

servers, cables hard-drives     

piezoelectric sensors    

screens laser-sintered polyester 

perforated aluminium     

auf den ersten blick

notice a single fuck 

in a pound of chrome alum    

here's what you could have won:     

classic gas with easy valour

the presence of police or armed forces 

impinges on a situation  

said orthodox economist      

so gentle be the baton 

calm be the kettle  

and every element  

respond benignly  

to our desires

(4)

Will do for        

workable antinomy          

new decimal         

impressed on condition of intense

purified awareness of  young men

and the state of their                                                          

coherence is to     

flatteringly make distinct                                             

in looking concentratedly                                           

despite throbbing uncertainty                                        

in prospect of being just right relief           

to the social kernel                                    

of abolition patter                                        

the balance   

looks like austerity

(5)

'They'll end up in the food processor, eventually'   

when asked a revelation intended   

we said hold up   

evicted paving slab painted 

purple broken Bouygues UK    

outside the fire assembly    

i cut in their lino three words     

SUMMER  OPENING  TIMES

(6)

Did you known?       

homeless in Lille David was a                                                         

living breathing hard head 

the eyes that span 

already tired already sorry 

by the worst    

and I would take                                               

my party of chicken in                    

champagne sauce       

out on the arterial roads  

at night free and dignified  like fools 

"Freddy," the guard here,     

endlessly pissing on private walls