The Tower

Elsewhere a phone is ringing
Bringing hope
Bringing shame to the scam
Overhanging the gap of asphalt, cheddar and human
With a paste of ambivalence and loss
Nothing harms the planet from up here
Where we live
Coughing and dropping rubbish into holes
Slamming doors
Making reference to the pale gait of the moving man
Lumping furniture around and around the room
Clocks flicking back and forth
A phone gets picked up to stop it screaming and screaming
In the weight of the floating ground
Every tiny crack picks up and amplifies
Every piece of cheese grows like thunder
Through the ear of utter and dim dang dangle every body in the shed
Ogle in the stars
So many nude outlines swinging
So many pussycats slipping from veranda to the moon
Disposals lodged in their chutes
A wedge somewhere will for sure be wrongly lodged
In something wrong
Five hundred holes in the sky
Blinking glibly at five thousand holes in the sky
Reflecting shadow on the rabid scape
Winding wolves up
Stirring up good trouble
Bees with keyboards
Tapping buzzing tapping
And pots of tea coming to the cream and
The tower is alive tonight
Cluck cluck cluck on their mind
It’s never day around here
There’s no fatness
Only complex problems being steadily resolved
Stalwart hoists sucking ragdolls into the night
Ephemeral collisions of the molecules of this gob-smacker
And an empty room
Does not survive long
So-called imbeciles bartering gamely
With so-called sane people
Filling up the tank
Filling up the mangy rooms
With moons
Spinning looms of naked maids
The pretty babes
The wretched loves of sarsy lugs
Suckin’ tubs
Playing hubbub with the town
Chariots flicking by with bells and buzzers humming
Singing safety to the cuddling baby bears
Rolling ugly in their nests atop the surging concrete river
Carcasses floating by
Somewhere a man jumps
His toaster has bitten him again
They both yelp for a moment before
The grinding ceaseless motion of the spinning tog
Takes them away
With thugs
With kindly old ladies
With an average blow planning a murder deep into the night
With the lights cycling on and off
With toff and spiff and nuthead in tow
A bit of piffle spat back into the wind
Water going cold
Some love dispensed down the chute
It’s prodding up the eyeline
Others poking, the perpetual sniff
Poking, the parental sniff
The perpetual stiff
The parental sniff
Poking around with sniff and stiff
Wondering why it’s so boring

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