Lines written with the accompaniment of Seeräuber Jenny and Joanna Newsom near Christmas
When we can see the different leagues and all of the stars
Glisten in the sea, look at me, look at me, I love three, in the
Prosperous overshadows of worst whores rustling in the fields,
Can’t you? Can’t you in the piano? I am a plain girl, a little marl
Plainclothes policeman pinches my cheek, sneak, away, away,
Your cheeks are sweet babe, sweet babe, and you eye the world
Like a little softness, little softness. Don’t we want and don’t we
What to place our hearts in the little tomb of pieces of love
Like lions mastering a roar in simple overtones of playful
And careful and loving is the tender night of Christ
And Krishna, mistah Buddha and the mirth of life, it’s
Christmas day, we’re painting pictures in the sky of
Foals and pianos on high, the lords look out towards, towards.
A bunch of twos makes us weepy in the fauns. Love me,
Jesus love me, I am too, we are, play, play, another
Existential day. Ways and numbers in pitchfork catacombs
Don’t’ want to, don’t want to jump in a lyric pool
And whisper, but, I’m not at all… Coming round
Again, Jesus, pray, pray. Love me, love me, here, now,
People, people, love it, jumping joyously, it’s here, half is
The plentiful connection to another, do see, feel a little, fell me
Cattle, Seattle, printed on jeans, little poems from the doctor’s
Script. I sanctify my mind with a kiss from a dead dandelion.
Don’t chimp on the foreground mastodon priggishly,
Forgot the prospect in the trees, rains the birthday
An aspect background bescenes us, we look so superb, a yes
Is all the world is made of.
The jingles in the forests hoping the hapless to heaven makes
Us wise, wises the worth. O, lark and Liskeard, where is the misheard?
Aftershave, smells us sense job in the pipe dream tourist manifesto
Becomes to travel when all we want is silence and slow as cheap cigars
Smoke their stream of white strands fishes my deepness wishes the calm
Of cats. Can you hear the little smitten quake of a northern white cold
Waving to places throaty with crumpets in makes, ions, palookas, aw
Is a quiet word, as is isn’t. Widows in the windows, ships in nights
Atop master plots systemises a love, a love, a love, never have I wished for
For a long, long time, the tender divorces haunting alleys, thumbnail
Gingerly I am, we are, can be, you seem, so sure, please hun, hum
The quiet hymn of crosses and salvific thorns, meditating in hollow rooks
Among knight’s moves and simples signing the language of half-
Trampolines in pulpit masquerades, all we need is bones, bones of joy
Love the four score and sixteen joshing jollies. A book is a number, a
Cant for the remember of raggedy begat principles, looks breathe in eyes
And we both know. For people that eat waves in hours outlasting. Fin.
Plasterboard
In the face of something new
Seems a light, when shone upon
The glaze of traffic jams. O, father,
The simpleton strikes in me the fear
Of a thousand. I want to sleep; a
Tough leg keeps its promise, glory
Comes to improper boyos.
A mistake played out in a
Colander, the mimes of torn-jeans;
Sit still, silent, let mind be free of
Violence and body rot away as we
Reach the sea of a bright new
Hope, pleasant as plasterboard,
Skint comes the monies.
I’m beaten for the next and last
Time, in blues of rhyme Sundays,
A Geordie tough gets hot for hit
Missing jennies for donkeys, scotch,
Lambaste in a coffin willed the whim
Wipe-out for trouble’s cause is lost
On a flunky from Sebastopol.
Shisha
Close our eyes
The smile of death
Simple in the night
Of smoky room
The distillery
Of soul pleasures
A tranquil fizz
From dreams
Allayed prayers
From molasses
To sinewy Gods
Strands of love
Can we feel?
Our hearts are earth
Our love a lost
Generation
In streams of dust
Stems from place
To mother rust
The end effaced
Constriction brings
A relief of hour-glass
Time, chested microbes
In alveoli
Subliminally signals
Forth the moment
Whence a son composed
His secret
Water steadies
A bubbly potent
As flexile love
Is an elixir
Of contentment
