GARNISH

GARNISH

I have eaten crocodile
which means, in the grand
scheme of things

I am
one up on you

bacon and
rice-pudding being,
to the best of my knowledge
neither forbidden
fruits; nor
in any way exotic vegetables
such as might
truly flavour my poetry,
garnish this
particular text

it’s only my love life
that could possibly be
considered spicy

huge flesh fetishes here
and commodification
of lust interesting to see

where it leads, this stripping
away of the rituals that
assure satisfaction
via surfeit of sensuality

to that austere conjunctive
morality and cold, soulless

pornography, rapid-fire supremacies leading to
ultimate in
orgasm, true
labour-system test

the less hint of nuance,
imaginatively the best

I have
eaten crocodile, like
eating river itself.

FREELY

FREELY

Muse
is not taking my calls
think she has blocked me

I imagine her sitting
in a cafe reading The Paris Review
drinking an aperitif

not wondering or
worried about me
in the slightest

or why it should be, despite
the myriad reasons not to

I have sacrificed my life for her
given her
love her
so much for those who

know nothing of her power
are so happily immune
to her seductive beauty

selling
her soul unashamedly
giving
herself freely.

SWALLOW

SWALLOW

you put
coins on my eyes
but I swallowed them

death
is such a
hard thing to
swallow

hard act to follow
imagine singing The Beatles’
“A Day in the Life” while
you wait for the
traffic to
stop
for all eternity

digging your own quiet
picturesque grave
but gravity forcing you
down down down

one of those
birds circling your head
not making
it summer

ENOUGH

ENOUGH

I feel I might make it
might just have enough

so hold off on all those bandages
banging me up
in some sarcophagus

and there to leave me
at absolute ebb
just ticking over

a thousand years of sand
until my tomb is opened
by explorers from what
is now
the world’s new
great superpower

and when they wake me,
scene from your classic
Hammer horror
and despite my own
true self I do indeed
death curse them

though hardly moving
with the grace
and the fluency
of Mr Muhammad Ali

and they
having survived —
who knows what calamities
the cosmos, the planet
their own
grievous species stupidity
happened to
inflict upon them

walking into this death trap
just in order
to find me
take
a selfie with me
get to know me better

take a few crucial
vital measurements
and get
their Ph Ds.

NEW

NEW

old Ez
told me
told you

to treat each word
like a wooden block
a carved wooden block
bearing
    the ideogram perfect
    for this spot

but all these words in
some kind of crazy pattern
Canto after
    Canto bouncing across
the page

and you in a cage
caught flirting with fascism
seduced into this madness
by Renaissance
economics
        by Oriental sage

and your guard
        kind of like the boy next door
nothing more American
than his
    Thompson sub-
machine gun

your thumb snagging on the wire
a droplet of blood
to attest to
        true causality

keep it simple, Classical,
make it new

Sent from my iPhone

WARNING

WARNING

warning
I am carbon life-
form

and this poem is
about to go blinding flash
full supernova
across the page
destroying and creating

dooming at the speed of light
huge swathes of the galaxy

and all because
of another carbon
life form of my own species

but whereas the carbon
of which I am compounded
is pretty bog-standard

hers is
light-loving, light-
defining

supernova-inducing in
its beauty so, so diamondesque