Skip to main content

Three more from "thirsty poems"


can you guess what it is yet?

yes, it is better to hide your gift of love when
first you come up to, approach, the vast body

beauty is all that, and more, which you can’t encompass

...on the intrados the etchings, the
aqueduct goes on its arch proliferating but
neat, but on the intrados the marks, they
refute all laws of construction they dispute
structure claiming sovereignty for the irreducible—
all we ask is that you for us grant a body...

I am the sort of person who apologises to children this
in and of itself must commend me to the behemoth


can you guess what it is yet; slow developing like the
colour of wings if you happen to be lucky with the sun, with eyes

...the arc of the intrados can not span the
rift, the shrouded rift that gnaws on the ham
let, the bucolic alcoholic hamlet, the
extradosesque bully is also of no use—
something this big can never be loved can
never be lovely such a body such extra
vagance whilst we muddle on with our many-breach, leaking...

luvva, you built our house with the insides out

-----

class issues

girls now aren’t girls nice the way they are in
spotted skirts, striped shorts, check their trousers?
and
boys, aren’t boys nice too the way they follow on in
packs, watching, haunches rising and fall?
and
squirrels, darling little squirrels, decimating the green of
sticky shoots, dispatching their detritus down
and
the mad so picturesque menacing those others with a jelly
knife off their heads on mental medicated
but
horrid. oh how horrid was the truncheon, that sound!
it makes! glancing off of a skull, dull, forcing prod, harassment,
in the back room, hands-on-thighs-up-skirts;
bungs, sweeteners, plants and grassers, calling
jimmy a “little pouf” and jenny a lesser who loves
“it really.” they all do apparently, those sluts

why must they be so nasty
to us
just because
we did that naughty thing
yet let that wanky loony well alone
who smelt
and swore—
looking after their own whose
baggy seat was so soiled?

-----

fetish

lip stick sticky mouth is a fetish moon
over astrakhan beach I
rub their nipples with the fake
static shocks up the cellophane sky

pvc fish feel greasy to me now
laid out on my chest no
nowhere near my genitalia how
they beat: flob, flib, flob flab

ground glass sand dunes
wire wool gorse encroaching
slither-shattered black crystal cliffs
leather ship, silk anchor, lithe chain

from the sadist beach hut to the...
you laid your svelte pelt down
“svelte” I whispered
“svelte” responded the responders
“svelte” called out the torso sailors “svelte”
confirmed the actual crab a
single pearl quivered immaculate up
on the arid lip of your inner calm
contained within tension, your poison. “mmm,
yes,” you purred, “svelte. will you do my back?
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

John Ashbery, Some Trees

John Ashbery, Some Trees
(New York: Corinth Books, 1970)
Originally published (New York: 1956)


Close Readings and annotations of every poem in the collection March-April 1997 in preparation for In the Process of Poetry: The New York School and the Avant-Garde (Bucknell UP, 2001) currently in the process of complete update (2013)


"Two Scenes," 9

This is a poem about duality so in this sense the title actually refers to what the poem is ‘about’. John Shoptaw notes, for example, the phonic mirroring of the poem which he sees as an element later phased out as is the “linear introversion” to be found here. Thus we have the following phonic recurrences: “we see us as we”; “Destiny...destiny”; “News...noise”; “...hair/Air”; “-y” and rhymes of section 2; and “...old man/...paint cans”.


This simple but subtle semiotic device is then developed structurally as well, as the title hints. So ‘scene’ 2 reflects back internally onto ‘scene’ 1. “Machinery” recalls the train as does the canal; g…

John Ashbery, Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror

John Ashbery, Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror
(Manchester: Carcanet, 1977)
First Published (New York: Viking, 1975)

Close Readings and annotations of every poem in the collection March-April 1997 in preparation for In the Process of Poetry: The New York School and the Avant-Garde (Bucknell UP, 2001)


Introduction:

· Shoptaw notes that this return to poetry is dominated by images of waiting, that narrative (especially fairy-tale) returns, as do the musically based titles, there are no prose poems and no fixed forms such as sonnets of pantoums, most are free verse paragraphs, also bring forward a new American speech, more direct and inclusive.



“As One Put Drunk into a Packet-Boat”, 1-2

· Shoptaw notes this was the original title for the collection, marking a self-consciously Romantic return to poetry, recording the thoughts of “I” from afternoon to night, just outside a childhood country home. Has a pastoral crisis narrative in that a summer storm gathers but passes leaving the poet relieved i…

The Grenfell Tower Murders

The 72 victims of Grenfell Tower Fire were murdered, victims of the violence of neglect.  Here is the proof.
A year ago, a fire started on the fourth floor of Grenfell Tower, due to a faulty appliance.  The fire spread quickly up the side of the building because the tower had been refurbished in 2016.  Flammable cladding had been added to the exterior building as part of an £8 million refit which appears to have primarily made the tower more cosmetically pleasing.  The money was not spent on improving fire safety within the building, it would appear, a cause for concern for residents’ groups for years. The initial cladding that was to be used is not illegal in the UK but its use is restricted in other countries.  To save costs a cheaper version was eventually attached to the building, a more flammable version. 
Once the fire caught, residents were advised to stay in their flats.  In 99% of all cases this is the best advice, because flats are designed to be “fire resistant boxes” surr…