#

dry out the fibreglass

prepare your nan

can’t have two poets in the attic, it’s weird

#

During a period of intense productivity

play darts

read Kant

#

Night on the farm, blessed by

neon control

there half the year

avec plastic conscience and

sell-pork

#

Those Stalinist future shotguns

travel in pairs

vicious and green

with a blurred understanding of breath control

Avoid

#

With the express aim of welding

[between man and man]

chivalrous awe

we have intercourse in every direction

#

Perk up

Class who owns nothing

Perk the fuck up

#

Wholesale misery follows

Pamela’s bike

her systemic pedantry

Esta noite, amanhã

Todo mundo ficará sabendo a peste que você é

Manx, please

#

Green carpet

gunshots

4 days for the bus to explode

#

Ja ja ja ja

if your horse tries to vote

hide hay

burn horse

#

Callous vicars

throughout the next century

agile in parks

sensationally bald

anaemic when it counts

no Mary

not really sure what the law is, how a six year old is different from a twenty-six year old, both know basic physics, eat the same food, go the same-

give em a break, Will

you don’t know how busy they are,

those callous vicars

weeping verse

washing the goat

daring the 7^th least capable to haggle with Marx

doubting

measuring

re-reading Marx

Is there a lock for that key?

Penance?

Prismatic rectitude?

Man, come on

15 book contract and all you gotta do is gurn,

eroticise Duck Tales,

Foster Meg and co

cope

cape

cower

and ja

ditch Bakunin, his knees are gone

post-Hague thingy