You come apart within me, slightly ill
(Perhaps you don't?)
But just when hard soil climbs
And clings to bark, then you might find
The bathos of a prone pose in my thoughts
(Perhaps you won't?)
Thus you come apart within me, slightly ill
You remember me, yet you ought not
(Perhaps you should?)
But just to speak my form
Or...
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Priestbird
Nomi
Band of Horses
The White Birch

just dropping by to say hello
I think we all need more of you around here
i intended to post the Chet Baker version (the supreme version) of this song, but there's no footage of it online. still, Ms Dinah Shore here does a lovely rendition, if a little jaunty.
i am thinking of adapting the lyrics somehow and making a poem from them. i don't know if i would rearrange the existing words or use the structure and matter as...
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caffeine
nicotine
alcohol
marijuana
tramadol
cocaine
all consumed quite incidentally; i don't really set out to get twisted, these days, but i struggle to say no "if it's going". ok, i bought 24 beers, and i drink tea and smoke cigarettes quite liberally, but the rest was all passive consumption.
drug use is interesting for me at...
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There is a stubble field on which a black rain falls.
There is a tree which, brown, stands lonely here.
There is a hissing wind which haunts deserted huts---
How sad this evening.
Past the village pond
The gentle orphan still gathers scanty ears of corn.
Golden and round her eyes are gazing in the dusk
And her lap awaits the heavenly bridegroom.
Returning home
Shepherds found the sweet body
Decayed in the bramble bush.
A shade I am remote from sombre hamlets.
The silence of God
I drank from the woodland well.
On my forehead cold metal forms.
Spiders look for my heart.
There is a light that fails in my mouth.
At night I found myself upon a heath,
Thick with garbage and the dust of stars.
In the hazel copse
Crystal angels have sounded once more.
That is brilliant, I am jealous. I might just hang up the notebook and weep.

Property
I know a guy
who told a secret of mine
while insomnia rehearsed with me
the script of my own telling
Hey
I'm sure he meant no harm
and I'm sure I would do
the same to him
It seems to me a lot of men are
prone to what millennia
can't...
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i've been completely absorbed with my play, which is now done and in rehearsal for April....so i haven't done so many new poems....but a few and i'll post soon.
glad to see you're back and your writing is sharp.
Yeah... I noticed that. He's in the middle of having it redone, so I suppose his design wank is working on it at the moment. Annoying!
Well, you can check out the article about him on The Link's website, anyway.
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are you also naked under a pink crushed velvet blanket? or would that be too good to be true?
it was lucky you had a camera at that moment. i can't count the number of times i've found myself in that same predicament wishing i had my camera...

***
enough of that. watch this:
Increased number of things you own= Increased self-esteem.
what did i miss?
jesus god man.. fix your hair

haha actually. it's pretty nifty.
HINTERLAND
when I'm reclusive, I'll sit at the centre
of my own remote pantheon
which is more ring of salt
than apotheosis
here the impassive coffee mug
of jaundice; there a barren trellis
'gainst the wall, slowly wheezing
in the company
of equidistant ashtrays
whose grooves tell quite a story
and all around there are
the tokens of nostalgia: cuttings
and the like,...
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I will be buying your book, in case you were wondering. I look forward to having a neat volume of your pomes on my bookshelf.
As for Bouville - it never occurs to me to volunteer anything because I never really know when you're going to be putting a new post up (you ain't like clockwork!
That poem is very interesting, I really like the juxtaposition of reality and either your desire or ideals. Had to read it several times over, as always
hows it going?
xx