i hear the blows as they land on her beautiful body
tatters of love and lack of love, they loved the love forgotten
with lines and wrinkles, his youthful morn
spoke and gave birth to temporal forms
how the youthful harlot’s curse
sets on your song on your tongue
backwater blues
a minimally real event
it doesn’t get me down and i feel ok
i am thinking whether i will show it to you
the ice box
the small of my back
the colour of where she is
my eclipse
whose waist is an hourglass
when the stars threw down their spears
the colour & grandeur of the northern clouds
begin, and cease, and begin again
to rise before us like a land of dreams
not seperated by different languages
invent a new form
and what i assume you shall assume:
money, God, power
rack your brain and spread
using prior recordings to create new music
only the poet sells his soul to seperate it from the body
that he loves
you wander in and out when sleep
there she goes
scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh
odourous and delectable
how strange to be gone in a minute
get sick. get well
it is not the same
there’s more enterprise in walking naked
we walk all night through solitary streets
i know she loves me! she wrote me that
“I’m the night without a moon”
generations have trod, have trod, have trod
the constantly changing beauty of nature
the right forefoot
leaves changing shadows
what kinds of lines, shapes and and textures!
Discover-uncover your breasts and neck
for thy sweet love remember’d such wealth brings
i haven’t seen you in so long
john menzies doesn’t stock poetry!
forgive me
i bequeth myself to the dirt to grow from the grass i love
‘cause when love is gone
the typewriter is holy
there’s always justice
