distrust dis care disorientatio a nexus, Sublime submlimate the next unfolding pretense pre teen infatuuation I hate spelling it' sno no good so anyway hen the next smam syriro fidos becomes a late jd hat I hate when did you ?n dh O utha atjs nicne gdj anyw ay< biye It es[ndh os si tss;s ileue endthsis nyway eb dbecaue see andy wnsya t I dte sos y btd did to Your r eye ahbde

THE FIRST THING

discarded polka dot pram
next to white pillar

how I speak
my hand feels pain, not
I feel pain, or

my left hand hurts, but my right hand does not
hurt

http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/basset-hounds-running

Check it

http://libcom.org/library/letter-uk-uncutters-violent-minority

Dialectics of Leisure

Dancing

Wing Suits

thanks to Tomas Weber's curiosity...

In Case you haven't...

http://stagevu.com/video/tpqiyjgvxapt

Batman and Robin

Leisure Poem 1.0

the elastic squirrel finally alone, drinking fluids
Copenhagen summit to ignore in the aftermath
paradise like The Pope only a day away it was
nice before it lasted, now there're only things to
do, like making cars

language fart in the speaker cup to blow or miss
out, like playing angel games after being a child
sponser-ship pronoun in the loud boom boom
you ever do the boom boom

now the sentence dislocates itself in a positive
vertical battle stance, a small measure of self
annihilation will be good enough for me and
them or men if you

Sometimes I do want to die, funnily enough,
now that you say that, I mean, I don't want to be a
dick about it, obviously.

Scissors.

Planes.

Work Poem 1.0

You know where you first heard un-obtaining?
You first got un-obtaining from that film the core
the core with Lawrence Fishburne the actor yeah where
they go to the centre of the earth, that's where you
first got un-obtaining from
now you see un-obtaining everywhere

2234

I need you

to take this pen away from me
I don't know what I'm capable
- please, I've done terrible men

Things are bleaker here than the usual in
cyst moral kennels. Have you told the truth
today?

Did light stream into us today?
a mouth full of not even razorblades and soap
gathering little stories for being gay with, go on
take it

I told you I'm you don't have to keep reading, this
won't get any worse...

Are you capable of it?
Listen this isn't stop funny being it hatchet potato
love like a light
is this funny? M

Put up your purse my angel mate , stale eyes for writing with
language upon muck, my mucus stem cell keep turning hun
Will we ever fucking get there???

Three question marks for one question, that's a small question for
so many scars on you face

how did you get here? Do you want to sort me out?
Do you want me to shut up? Be clever now then
be better than this

we are coming

0520

sudden miasmic triptych up tight begets better woes

Dalston pain heat washes the coalition of love to

throwing out vomit free for all tin cans around the

neck of history and we deserve far worse anyhow

than having to fend for yourself in the trash of loves

real underbelly the scum of love downgraded to a

simple lo-fi rub of envy and jealousy and I want her.

The real garbage we use to live with the un but so utter

able shriek of it under the constellation or commodification

of red ughs and have it in your face the pain that is the blockade

to pause and given doubt she un sorrows and who is she?

The nameless object of a poem more or less in hide

away, If I were you I'd get out while you can before the

constant stare of rage and confusion tears your heart

in, too real to put in a poem anyhow.

What justification, rhyme or meter could attempt the

actuality of pain? only shrieking knifes in a glut spelled

K N I F E, tomorrow again anyhow and could it be?

The solace found in writing an ersatz wet dream, faux

insided her now he is a closer object not by much to

tear the living wound into you, shattered image born

This is love poetry

Recent Poem

A Field, A Young Ghost on the Tenth of December, Two Thousand and Ten.

A____ is Stupid. He got B______ on the Head.

Sometimes of OUR protest's rank stupid Capital.

Simply put, (not quite seen) They make more Capitalism.

The freedoms or rights (we) fight for; To make art, To be supported in acts

of reading and writing, to work towards community and work towards our

autonomous ( I ) selves, together, are dropped at the sentimental introduction

of (conceitedly) being a fighter and not a coward. Either \ Or. and

queerness is obliterated

When we are fighting to signal that the right to study and write poetry is not

a luxury, we stop writing poetry, feeling guilty at the luxury of it. Why weren't

we kettled yesterday? Why weren't we B______?

Because we didn't want to be.

In the Protest / Playground, we act out that violence that brutalised us in the

first place, Coward. Coward. Coward. Piggy Piggy Piggy...

We got called pussy and prick, gay and faggot, girl.

So in turn , we reward the most stupid and scared of us, for fear of being called

Coward. Cop Lover. We bully us into obliteration, so (we) are here to refuse that.

In The Name of The Father, The Son and The Holy Ghost.

I FEEL LIKE CHICKEN TONIGHT.

JONNY LONG LEGS.

N____ ............. SHAME ...... YOU .............. .......YOU ........ .................. ..........

Enter a Young dog

(I wanna fuck you so hard I wanna put my cunt on your face and you fuck my hair your

cum and arsehole in fucking my cunt I want my cunt fucked and dog cunt and cum in my

mouth and throat and cunt and cum up me and on my cock your cock on my cock and

cunthole and arsehole and real fucking and outside and I want your smell up my arse

and your cunt and my cunt and your cock down my throat and my cock up your arse and your

hair in my mouth and the dog cock rubbing on my cock and my throat in your mouth and

your prick up my arse and my prick and your prick and your pussy and his pussy and my

cock and her cock and his cunt and I'll fuck your boycunt and you fuck my clit with your

mouth and we'll fuck the dog mouth and the dog cock in my mouth and cunt to cunt and

cock to cock and arsehole cunny and fucking and fuck me and fuck me and fuck me and)

Young boy needs room to meet other like minded people in....

Check your bad self...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bristol_Stool_Scale

Mayday mayday Jonny's in trouble he's in a flat spin

pretty soon I think I might be throwing up for a while

and have diarrhea too, this comes at an importune

moment.

I have collaborations to do, theatre to make, events to put on

and damn it now all might be foiled by a slice of under cooked

under priced pizza.

Mayday brethren mayday, this screen interceptor flat lined and

I'm in a boat and the stars are lies and the screech of the body

what Artaud could not live with, is motorcading it's fast decline

straight up my guts.

I went for an unassuming shit a few moments ago, and when I

looked in the toilet I saw a lot of red liquid, it doesn't hurt, but there

is nervous evidence of a battle going on inside me, damn it I'm

mad as hell and I won't be beat, surely, by a slice of pizza, not now

not now.

I ate a lot of under-cooked meat in the summer of 2003, hopefully

my guts, my vibrant system, built up an immunity, a resistance to

bugs and learnt to kill them quick, perhaps all is not lost, perhaps

with strength of the utopian mind, this will be a political loss but

a victory for the project of production.

Should I just go throw it up quickly in fact, get it out before it can do

any more damage and turn my whole system against itself, a cigarette?

a dream of flying?

When poetry is not properly ingested it can be a kind of drug. Prynne said that

over dinner once. Maybe poetry has made me sick, all these liberals, and sweet

talkers, made the blood come out the anus, and the throat come out the mouth.

Mayday mayday, Jonny's in trouble he's in a flat spin heading out to sea.

Lucky, for now, go careful folks, them's poverty killers out there...

Bruce Liron, Photographer

Yo, just a quick heads up to my Dad's photography website.

My Dad works as a documentary photographer and recently took some pictures of leather tanning workers which I found particularly indicative and difficult, primarily because he told me how bad the stuff they use smells, he said he could hardly bare it for too long, that's a facet of the problem with photography though, but now we've been given that information, we can use our imaginations, basically he said the stuff smells like shit.

Coverage of Today's Demo

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/4/20101110/video/vuk-baroness-warsi-condemns-millbank-rio-49bfa63.html

http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/2010/nov/10/student-fees-protest-conservative-hq

http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/gallery/2010/nov/10/students-protest-london-spending-cuts

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/blogs/talking_politics/on-the-front-line-with-student-protestors-p145546.html

A good days work

heads up

Sit Room update here

Very useful song

Tell me about yourself exactly.

How can we be freely honest when the whole prospect of consequence per se is so gilded with incredibility. But, honestly, what do you need to say? If we haven't yet communicated in our most total speech, why is this? What are our reluctances? What are mine. I don't know that I can say. Let's open ourselves to each other and demand the breakdown of partial sincerity into its recuperable scraps. Make something new and less obviously possible. Tell me about yourself exactly.

...

Who are you. Tell me exactly about yourself. This is never a challenge. Open yourself. That must be how love batters away its counterfeit. From this the bound into true, that is, anti-imperialist, fortitude is a leap alike to spark from match to petroleum, the whole mouth blazing like the clouds’ gentle euphony in a sky ecstatic with raw sunlight.

- Keston Sutherland, from Quid 9: Against Imperialism A Prolegomena, EX ED

Read

The diamond trade, and colonialism

Triptych

0203

the small boy's prose chewed up

his hanging mouth

the ran backflipped to yesterday

hammered into oblivion by god

how lucky ** are

system, sister, it'd dark out here

goats breath to touch cream in

dense hollow makes of shapes

cane drags on night dust rimming

a soft vowel glints small in the only

future

I hurt, this hurt, I do not want love

I am afraid of myself, I get drunk

I don't like romantic anything, I

listen to the breath, the I

or comma, there are bright people

here,

this means future tensile strength

the light is so bright and I'm afraid to make it dark

to unravel in a moment, KILL KILL KILL

universalism

KILL KILL KILL

silent from the insides of your mouth the, heat

how it fashions us, make love, it makes us soft

Needles

dialectic approach the fuselage of a paper aero-plane in your mouth

aero plane , aero , plane, aeroplane, aero space, plane, aero , plane

aeroplanes

plain aeroplanes on the window pain, plain as an aeroplane

exemplariness my / splutter /

Find

Listen

Projects, ok

Peter Serafinowicz

Films that look interesting...

I like this song a lot...

Erotic story

This is something that happened to me once, just thought I'd share it here...

So we were like 15years old, the three of us, me, Toni and Holly.

We'd broken in to my mum's place because she was on holiday and we had a bottle of vodka, we'd originally started drinking at Holly's but then as we started getting more drunk and more flirty we decided we needed somewhere where there were no adults, so we broke in to my mum's house.

We were playing some kind of stripping drinking game on my bed when I ended up in my boxers Toni and Holly went crazy, suddenly like excited animals, they went for me, ripping my boxer shorts off. We all started kissing and Toni and Holly gradually took all their clothes off too, we kept drinking vodka in between kissing and licking each other, eventually we were all out fucking each other, I ended up fucking holly up the bum whilst toni fucked her pussy with three fingers and then toni and holly finger fucked my arsehole together with my legs behind my head and I came on my own face, then they licked it off and both sat on my face masturbating and kissing, at one point we found a necklace and forced it up all of our arsehole's so we were connected, ramming each other rectum to rectum, spitting in each others mouths, forcing toni down on holly, pissing on holly, then they both pissed on me and on each other, we searched for tools to use on each other, it was a frenzy of smell and sweat, noses up pussies, noses in rectums, so much heat, eye to eye, kissing, intensity, 15 yr old maniacs, howling, more fucking more vodka, dares, forfeits, light streams out...

the next morning we walked to school together

stupid love

make of that car crash smile

a ha

when touch oh

syncopated sorrow I'm

but will you

oh

it's NOT IN VERSE!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH!!!!!!

NO!!!

OH!!!

HA

HA!!!

oh, but some other satire suits you

sorry, I don't understand

sorry

please hit me in the face

please

please

or hit me in the face

x

LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(this unfortunately happened)

sorry

S'UP

If anyone sees or hears of a pair of speakers or any kind of device which amplifies music, and which can be given to me free of charge or for less than ten pounds, can somebody tell me, thank you

Also, remember, If anyone has any Idea's for anything which is to do with not making capitalism, and you need a place with four walls and a roof in which to make it happen, I have a place where you can do that for free, readings, theatre, lectures, happenings, anything which is thinking carefully and passionately, let's go, as in, I'm here, and it's here...

love

Work In Progress

Just a quick heads up to the fact that I'm doing this

x

Blair Zaye everybody

Just wanted to give a committed heads up to a new website by Blair Zaye

Blair is one of the only other actual artists and thinkers living in the warehouse with us and I've been very moved by the work of his I've seen and it's been my pleasure to be able to host some of his work in the sit room as backdrops for the other thinking activities which have populated this place.

I see a lot of argument and thinking in his work, especially the later drips, splits, tears and rips work. The only thing which is slightly unhelpful, inevitably so, is that you can't get a sense of how big some of his works are from the website.

Their size is a vital component of their argument for me at least, and how much of the room they take up with their performance.

Continually provoking and changing, they speak to me of the social not merely existential trauma of communication, expression, movement and testimony whilst simultaneously dancing with the raw wound of communication itself that is in fact the act of making and presentation,

slinging back forth with and inside a scatological desire in spite of, made from the teeth of set edges, wound up to the incremental possibility of an artistic movement that at once with at least two hands hangs on to the promise it came for like breath connected to feet...

sad to imagine that I might think all the signals were somehow lost, that nothing remained but a kind of chaos and cacophany. But for me the signal that survived was the most important thing. Not because of the thing itself, but because of the thing behind the thing. Communication might fail, but the desire to communicate was always somehow preserved in all the noise.

-Chris Goode

friday

sudden flight from the cargo hold reaps its song of

a movement of grass the stench is a big giant robot

to help and soft bodies hold true to the promise of

desire to make vibrant true

a tenure and wasps float over the field where we do already live

amongst the totem poles as escape vantages with direct contact

to the prodigal women who's eyes sneer with radiant intelligence

amongst the seclusion of light or lit fields and breathe together

actual air fills up the lungs as hands move separately and we watch

boys and girls manoeuvre their desire as construct, only the language

is locked up for times of war so throats determine ethics among old satchels

and the burnt husks of laptops make better laptops

still blood and now

poem

this could be the game up

as the un passionately livable

project of earning rent

is caught up with before even

the first payment in a backlog

of almost four months

with what revealed itself

as 4.30 an hour is spent upwards

a distant loneliness and near

despair

the wheels begin to speed up as

a body caught in the grinders begins to soften

as hardness is too too violent

and testimony is an echo

the ( £1906.04) of friends sounds chillingly empty

at

Work Poem 2.0

for Mario Savio

sick, to the glisten of glut of fat of sweat of his

desire, the black hard hat means supervisor

there is no wail of outrage no pause for thinking

no poetic demonstration only the poor stupid

scuttling of future rent, bent on subservience

kill them all I haven't thought about my cock

an even once this day only, "I don't want to die

for 6.11 an hour"

On the collapsing structure is a boy

He wants that admiration, so he bends

his life to the fat clap and cheer of his

employers, who ruffle his hair.

I stay in his absence to remark on so much

just not death through the desire for admiration

the structure rots quietly above the stupid drinking

of beer

I stupidly get on a bus

Work Poem 1.0

suture unfolding at sincere breath point

cartons of sulphur resume the pattern of

circumvention harmonics detain her crowd

lampoon by lampoon goat limbs fly on filters

tubular octagons decrease the potential for breakage

listen again. don't refrain from your temperature of

wanting, ash risen like choral silence bones melt

and mend those horrific ocular contours o and s

barrow songs hit above chiming of spit

designate the soft vowel like putting on with

another word for language is irony

Work Poem 3

I heard what the talkers were talking

strike minion empires in critical rest

criteria for reaching in gloating the

vodka shovel snipe doon yer throat

at unease a lucky gesture empties task

pause ground tea grind up the unlucky

bacon and walnut of our lives / living

underneath toad berries or acute Capitalism

sinking through the vest of corrupted

desires stinging a vein shaft of blindness

'WITHOUT EARS' tank a rest in stead

your fear makes brutal the touch of

the red skins

enter violence enter fear enter fear of

puddles decorate the vacuum expanse > A

SLING direction - corporate drunk punk

that bleat for less and thought war tin eating

marketing shit and shit out you hit it out

nausea hollows on in circle red wall make planes

the task is salvage and discriminate, the baby is

in the bath water, you are the bath water

tremble and dance in hot vodka sweat of babies

cawing in your ears and hands to put a loin

down the history. a muter of help somewhere perhaps

and mutter beneath the engine, get a finger to the lever

of her bath water, I'm just constructing sieves baby

Work Poem 02

ten shivering perv

pence eat quick make

backs

Work Poem 01

excusable vacancy devoid vacuum to upper throat

might profit from back stretch to the white limit of key hole

movable split shifts in hand itinerary quarter spelled fleck

muster form in with candid moaning devoid yourself

troubadour spin thrift dabbled on a side bench fell up

a spit poem to clean up now the waste imprints on the

worser limit skilled to kind.

make lobster breath detergent the outside keeps un honest

spun threads are talons for plot kitchens moving when sestinas

manage their own bread yes wool he enter him together as

sisters under the black underlay of a future damp turning to

grunge mastics C shimmy in her clean up procedure if chaste

willow the upper blaze eye line limp it scorched the dead foetus

hands quiver outside the window find.

uncountable stairs approach the gradient of sleep wracking a never

twitched speaker up sound then headed card bleeps bleeps total

orange wind shifting you over the spectrum for coconuts attack

a soiling hair gradient in Afrikaans or cans spliced and choc insist

remembered swirl so splattered heap head makes / call / then remembered

misachieved vulnerable letter to the seam transgressed the dog urge

in calm attack as funny noise when scapula men umbraged vernacular

payes tribute in lactate bind.

proper word tells tale in dead tongues living a language on carpet

shins triangulate breach tourist tread million rinds gloating on the heap

softly press carton face put polythene micro scissor great great

cold in the heat of meat grinders cuticles dangle following self harm it is

make worked effort when up weeped press language alarum bells sincere

denture tinnitus suffusing small smells insult teal tread and burrow

copper on the stock voice un heard

A response to things I wrote

Joseph Luna has posted an agile, passionate and critical response to my poetry over at his place which I am really really appreciative of, it's the first critical response I've had to my work and I am very grateful for it.

Expect to see a piece of critical response here from me on his work soon, it's the least I can do in return to such a loving swerve.

Love to Joe and you

... into ...

softly put acetates military fissure / the font

a motorcade in clowns, cut up to see better

drains protest of the soliloquy / my cock

rips up the form of instruction radiates blood rim

to rise

daddy a slip of dress lights in wails a motor spin

before the ricochet side cut to naked asphalt / bared of heaven

to el! increased cautionary to delicate inner mouth

so it's fragile of the LED instinct to rapture

vowels of spit and engagement sideways

purpled up

inside the vowel it's insects peel and warm

shovels vibrate the side of pleasure

soil is put up, a mounted propulsion no breath

hot heat trowels delete barrier of fear going

blue transient foreplay curls and shatter

shins de coalesce the homogeny of skin to incest

slapped to a thin line of porous

break surfaced gravel on tint

behold gender

unworthy thing thou sideways grimace downtrodden

the prostate angel

god speaks only to that spot, inner delinquent

foals instant

bequeath thy self to thy position

flung the horizon to shine in utter

shimmer of the young snatch, pussy

avoid fear of your rectum

I envy your fearlessness / hunting in linen

breath moist on bare mound transgression

totemic duceric range on

re warp spectrum up existence / shattered disaffections

low cloth down young erections, sensual coercion

the naked truth of it my beheading guilt is silent and un protestations insolence

re wire of blank the repetitious despondency alaric

synergy of disease and corduroy speakers / transient ostentation

bee a lightbulb under purchase of child nailed diatribe distress

statutory fleas richen with ease. wrought This /

literary clamminess in under bridged snobbery by a woman

animals men

lasting to fixture taste pre possessed control Fear soaking web.

hunger recital in the skein line. Branded Fool of a puke

0107

proliferates intricate squirm scream

orgasm as untranslatable

apparel profligates tenement breach

mexico considers us

queer sing the dead horse, diseased brother

fragrant neck in despondent bed entreaties

london exhumed poet testimonies to pillow

containers of straw, fallow out burst so going

salient busies upwards honing

wind fact string

breach the V line

tamara deletes spell

soundly re estuary placed biometric

dabbled the spit path in red wine to

ache seeming hungry social mistake

felled apart in the reams of a token

total sequence of artistic

instance as police

fictate men dolls cock

bloody wound scrub

belt compartments to rise and shine

concrete hair gloops in salt minions

donut cascades to what seeming holy

tedious assurance Dog faced obituary

re little seeming small

a phrase german

to indicate artifact clot

so this is

today rimming bus round ups in tone

no son house's in the all battle sublimate

thresholds of understandable use will

not stand for the onus of reach

to day

sometime is cannot be all together found at FEET

weeping HOLD the electric electro my tie is

my belt up liverpool this cannot automate. Full to the

middle welt engineered engineers

a crease vector slenders past times flipped to the horizontal

particular derangement key. AM not wholly aware

plague belt in a slow. Wicket 1 keys you in my dogmatic knife edge

caroline beckons you inside the teeth

softly my ram my ram folds in on SHITACHE carols sung briefly double's

back down the up lift overtake the liminal bird fixtured

to the floor above you circumvent the circum of navigatorial dream IN

superflux varietal yeast infectional damaged rectumal

carrion pigeon birds choke in your breath hole

THROAT up TO THE sky. / Laughed a long mine in elbow box tinted

left goes sick up through the door to down town in skelter

boxing push push maneouvre what I meant to say was INCREASE

already this and that is visual poetry you see but not very

good because it's either CAPS or NO CAPS, so piano

to follow the edge of LInear breathing / moving rapid in

horror ox.

12.08

of any particular originated nexus

lies horrid certainty in liberal Texas

guilt is curled in the ligamented connection

of contraceptive protection, odious treatment

sunk in a contained mouth, tonight is defeat lit

with lies / hunkered down / scrubbing our smile

with a coloured toothbrush.

possibly, I, whisper into your mound

and ethically rupture over the unethical

lust of confusion

neuron blazed in the ridge

slid back to reveal You

a word like Plague

softly redeemed before utterance,

un originated back slap

and barbecue MY empathy with soap

follow your hand

fall on my face, please

If I was in brighton, and,

split my sides, take a stone

relaxed to the point of nothing

(who's up for a

anyone up for a)

O am power to Hide

a gag of lines curves

This belittling Nothing will not suffice, you see the structural problems?

someone said apathy, some says aggressive

infectious adherence to a velocity shudder

and ricochet down to your most childlike urges

How is it using it's medium to think with, this is not urgent but must be

I mean

glowing round a de railed laugh

sharpen soft bat hark at lemon a

emergency beat lists you to listen up

and how selfish to say Oh beat me up, fuck me up, this is all too much I'll take all the bullets

because you don't, so attend and make

I need to speak to the anesthesia

no pathos

no feeling

no for gods sake

for gods sake

no repetition

I've made it all so much worse there

and there and there and here and here

Fuck twixt two stamp and a penny going bo didddly in the creeked

fact line IVE said tht before and it always goes this way

that I start with form and structure and interesting things happen and then abonnie pronce billy comes on and I writ something Like this

what is the way and what is the sign?

touch yourself in front of me

Sit Room link

So! Here is the link to 'The Situation Room'

For those who don't know it, The Situation Room is where I live and work

It's a studio in a converted warehouse in north London

I have begun putting public readings and performances on there

For details on upcoming readings and performances, just go to the blog and it will tell you,

Good luck, lots of love

J

04.33

Brethren

It's been more time / day floods walls / glass

Keats noticed the inability to write prose / a day

So, we are accustomed to that weather, small lines granulate and concave

I've become hear? The sea...

unduly rush, tipped to screen we are / you have been screened

gathered up as they say / vectors pronounce children and change

pocketed / no / fallopian cynicism now love...

ah love...

It's

no

4:28

we awoke to the sound of the room

raining

My biological father, left, has gone, to leave

trail that knowing track, soft mud

is your bedroom

The day will come

now to tip the point

into action / hold /

you smell rain still, gasp

fear

point and swivel membrane, pigment

pigment

let's

meaning full to choking

young

Yo

Make sure you don't miss this

Hey hello by the way, it's been awhile right, well

I have a new studio and things are pretty busy in meat space, I will be back though my brethren, soon and with surprises, keep up, holy Hell!

at 23

so the tenant is firm in her respect for the hound

hardly playing in the dust in the yard in the light
worms shiver in response to her candorous
fingering of soil and salt round as the popular
mouth, imagine, you cannot example his posed
features, turf and hard gravel re-splendour so
cavernous light believing that there is something
to attain to.

soft cuttings describe his morning scene, blood
in the sand is evidence of the edgeless foresting
form-like and sensual in his undergarments
a testimony of uttered trauma, we might sink here
attached to that feeling is a trauma deeper than
language, you find yourself structurally and logic-
ally dead, that is certain, yet still breath remains
still.

repeated circular and naked fathomings belie you
lost furthermore so in turning for direction you are
lost to sensual radar, the trail turns a hairpin
and is small, a pile of children's clothes probed by
the narrative wind, the careful wind tugs at your pubis
indicative of that salt you taste in the earth, take root
guide child as a slight cacophony has already left
slowly open before the preach,

down the third road you morning trilled in only your
tie from the party before, when the day was yet to break
so as it fell you were born, agleam of yolk and a single
infinity of unutterable questions, we came too late to
urge you to pour that yolk back down your gullet sighing
so, the goats of us broke our bread on your back and
came behaving in your hair.

Happy Birthday Kier