In memoriam

in memoriam

Visually drained, uncommunicative

Vale. The villagers are static.


Silkworms have vanished.  In the market

Of semi-abstract importances

Executives hypothesize

Abandoned bureaucracies,

Vacant bowels of taxpayer response.


I said the nozzles are connected directly

To bosoms of target resonance,

Via landlines of honey. It only

Remains for the ducks

To turn them on.


Most ducks, or indeed career paths,

Are insulated from perdition in a protective capsule

If they take for guidance the sequence of the bible:

Middle, Pleasure, Rubber and God.


Area for development

area for development

These inconsequential incidents in the in-tray of time encapsulate exactly

The labour of collapse I’m always coming across in my lorry,

And in my lounge.

The Collapse Curriculum in Britain has always felt the employment of curtains,

The straightforward enjoyment of a colleague in custody –

Poisons in all likelihood.

It’s funny how even the crappest of diets can trigger a treasure,

Deliver memoranda.

Anyway, these incidents seem to give something of a light to bringing it all

Resolutely ball to the library of tawdry crumminess –

For which I’m a complete sucker – noting that the curves

Seem to have been lengthened by St Augustine’s arrival

(He brought news of the worms).

It amuses me how the brand-most vision shows

That the dads can only get larger,

The beverages more high-congregation,

Around this node of the wounds.