The corrupt cannot imagine people different from themselves; they can only imagine people who have succeeded in hiding their true nature.
Danilo Kiš, The Book of Kings and Fools
Danilo Kiš, The Book of Kings and Fools
Sunday, 13 September 2015
Tuesday, 8 September 2015
the changing of the seasons
caramel coloured feet
and pale blue toenails,
out,
even as the sky sets into its blank whiteness
for the long sunless autumn
and the winter beyond it,
on this windy rock
in a chilly sea.
and pale blue toenails,
out,
even as the sky sets into its blank whiteness
for the long sunless autumn
and the winter beyond it,
on this windy rock
in a chilly sea.
Thursday, 3 September 2015
Sunday, 26 July 2015
up and down all morning
years and years ago,
when we were all big bullshitters,
I had this mate and
my god
he could spin a yarn.
like he told me
that this one sunday morning
he'd been out all night
somewhere in town
and that
he'd got on the northern line,
heading home to wimbledon,
still off his head,
(pills,
puff,
lager),
sweating,
smelled bad,
white jeans all stained
and cigarette burns
on his shirt
and
normal people staring at him,
and that
his eyes had closed
and that
when they opened again,
he was dazzled in the hot glare of daylight
and that he was passing through east finchley,
heading north,
as in he had supposedly been passed out all the way south to morden
and then all the way north on the way back up to high barnet.
well, I didn't believe him
but it was one of those clubland boasts,
one of those ecstasy war stories.
so I was probably all like "what are you like, you nutter."
when we were all big bullshitters,
I had this mate and
my god
he could spin a yarn.
like he told me
that this one sunday morning
he'd been out all night
somewhere in town
and that
he'd got on the northern line,
heading home to wimbledon,
still off his head,
(pills,
puff,
lager),
sweating,
smelled bad,
white jeans all stained
and cigarette burns
on his shirt
and
normal people staring at him,
and that
his eyes had closed
and that
when they opened again,
he was dazzled in the hot glare of daylight
and that he was passing through east finchley,
heading north,
as in he had supposedly been passed out all the way south to morden
and then all the way north on the way back up to high barnet.
well, I didn't believe him
but it was one of those clubland boasts,
one of those ecstasy war stories.
so I was probably all like "what are you like, you nutter."
Thursday, 25 June 2015
and the
the snake bites the deer
as it grazes in the shade.
and the sweating mothers labour us,
wailing,
into the world.
and the bag of blind kittens is tossed into the sea
where the fish dies in terror
in the entrails of the whale,
and the whale dies in terror,
barnacled,
beaching,
in the holiday sun.
and the light fades in the eyes of the impotent tiger,
and the beauty of the flowers is a ruse,
and the butterfly's joy doesn't last,
and the lovers' embrace is uneven,
and the teeth rot in the mouth while the dentist plays golf.
and the lepers know horror,
and the sperm stains your underpants,
and the metamorphosis of the breasts
marks the time
this is pretty derivative, drawing heavily on a few lines of prose from the short story Simon Magus by Danilo Kiš
as it grazes in the shade.
and the sweating mothers labour us,
wailing,
into the world.
and the bag of blind kittens is tossed into the sea
where the fish dies in terror
in the entrails of the whale,
and the whale dies in terror,
barnacled,
beaching,
in the holiday sun.
and the light fades in the eyes of the impotent tiger,
and the beauty of the flowers is a ruse,
and the butterfly's joy doesn't last,
and the lovers' embrace is uneven,
and the teeth rot in the mouth while the dentist plays golf.
and the lepers know horror,
and the sperm stains your underpants,
and the metamorphosis of the breasts
marks the time
this is pretty derivative, drawing heavily on a few lines of prose from the short story Simon Magus by Danilo Kiš
Thursday, 28 May 2015
it's not too late
I open up the emails and the first one,
from a mobile phone company,
says it's not too late
to get to glastonbury.
and I look at decades of photos on the wall,
and at the mess of the thing I've been trying to do all these weeks.
and I think of when I started feeling older than everyone around,
more than 15 years ago now,
and I think
you people don't know me.
from a mobile phone company,
says it's not too late
to get to glastonbury.
and I look at decades of photos on the wall,
and at the mess of the thing I've been trying to do all these weeks.
and I think of when I started feeling older than everyone around,
more than 15 years ago now,
and I think
you people don't know me.
Tuesday, 26 May 2015
DESTRUCTION OF A PROPERTY
ABOUT 18 MONTHS AGO I WAS DOING MY SECOND STINT WORKING AMONG THE WANKERS AND WALLS OF HOXTON/SHOREDITCH. DON'T LIKE THE PEOPLE MUCH. BUT YOU CAN TAKE NICE SELFCONSCIOUSLYMEANINGLESS PICTURES. USED TO GO FOR LONG, DARKMOODED LUNCHTIME STROLLS OR MOOCH AROUND A BIT ON/NEAR RAVEY STREET. IT WAS CHANGING THEN. CHANGECHANGECHANGE. HAS CHANGED MORE NOW. CUZ LONDON NEEDS MORE BOUTIQUEYCLIQUEY HOTELS, SHOPUNITS WITH CUNTYFADFOOD OUTLETS TOPPED BY STRATOSPHERICALLY PRICEY FLATS IN NEIGHBOURHOODS WHERE YOU NEVERTHELESS HAVE TO STEP IN VOMIT AND BROKEN GLASS ON THE WAY "HOME". LAST TIME I LOOKED IT LOOKED LIKE THIS:
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