LIKE
EVERYTHING ELSE THIS FAR FROM THE CHTHONIAN
we
are moving towards
a theory of beauty
tremenous natures veiled
butane on jehoaphat
stigmata
nationalist
condensation steals redemptive
like cool alabaster twixt the
seasons of love and pornography
darkness
is rechargeable
for ignition through
contemplation of stench
I was abandoned with reclaims
of
the high nature and there
are no accidents except her
anatomy bred forth organism
like that time she stood me up her
dominant
motherhood
wave-matron phallic surplus
condition of autonomy closing
her flesh envelope
over
her minoan female tower
made me curious as I crept
towards moment maximum intensity
horizontal chain-like arranged
whereby
conversation became
pointless camouflage
consumption for the sailors
was her call
RETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COM
STIFF CHAIN ON TAUT ROPE
I
think there has to be a return
to basics.
And I want to love you in some
untold part.
Where will you be when the
table turns?
You
ripped the pages of a book
I misunderstood.
You proved my case wrong.
I licked your boots.
I
have to wash my face three
times a day.
And my muscles
won’t get me out of my bed.
I’m
always rocking on
these pre-Raphaelite women
who live upstairs from me.
You
go from trousers to trousers
like a carrot.
And I watch you dry up like a well.
The
light outside is like Matisse.
The light inside is off.
Are you really structured by
your biology?
Or are you something
more remarkable?
There’s
too much noise here.
Loud neighbours are louder
when you know them.
She left her fingernails
on the floor.
RETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COM
PLASTER PIECE
The
sky-blue plaster piece
you chose because I touched it,
you will always keep.
You like to spend the days with me.
The
Sunday I first took you
on plastic with red button lens
you turned out well.
The air was cold, but it was shining.
And
the round crowned church
held you in its circle
and calmed you at my side.
You
take photos on the light.
RETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COM
SNOW RANGES AND FAIR WOODS
Angers
and failures:
my lads are not for reconciliation.
I
alone drink accurately
on the uncertainty.
I
drink for the occasion,
similarly impressed, to brakes, skies,
and ghosts.
Snow
ranges and fair woods
have their stint.
Printed
feasts of richness.
Thrushes that quote but do not sing.
Racing
to the beginning where the
reed’s breath sums up heaven.
And
yet the reed speaks of simplicity
while full motion reconciles earthly years.
Dread
lurks in the forest.
Candle boys shine the rough men.
Safe are the spheres that are dried
like the shells
The
old ships cry fleetingly
under the moonshine.
RETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COM
CONGLOMERATION OF THE EVOLUTIONARY ADAPTATION
the
appetite of Darwin
translated
into the protracted grimalkin that
parsiful
the ubermansch
and eater of the eaten
is
it possible to lactate some yet
possibilities still forbid
conglomerate without elatedness or logocentrism
harbinger of legs
or thorax water
then
some
empiricism postulated something other
that potter's field
credible
and
credible to this temperature
RETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COMRETORTMAGAZINE.COM
YOU GOT NO CHOICE
like
lateral longitude
miscreant endeavour homily
fixation blurring
all counterfactual
clothier
of the duration
back in sept '87
on pancras line
when
overlooked
on pedestal
rapping significant sheet
sometimes culled on duodecimo
for
my vestments and table
at streets summer-long
rectitude
failing
came grotesque
down by
compliant janitor
