Elsewhere a phone is ringing
\nBringing hope
\nBringing shame to the scam
\nOverhanging the gap of asphalt, cheddar and human
\nWith a paste of ambivalence and loss
\nNothing harms the planet from up here
\nWhere we live
\nCoughing and dropping rubbish into holes
\nSlamming doors
\nMaking reference to the pale gait of the moving man
\nLumping furniture around and around the room
\nClocks flicking back and forth
\nA phone gets picked up to stop it screaming and screaming
\nIn the weight of the floating ground
\nEvery tiny crack picks up and amplifies
\nEvery piece of cheese grows like thunder
\nThrough the ear of utter and dim dang dangle every body in the shed
\nOgle in the stars
\nSo many nude outlines swinging
\nSo many pussycats slipping from veranda to the moon
\nDisposals lodged in their chutes
\nA wedge somewhere will for sure be wrongly lodged
\nIn something wrong
\nFive hundred holes in the sky
\nBlinking glibly at five thousand holes in the sky
\nReflecting shadow on the rabid scape
\nWinding wolves up
\nStirring up good trouble
\nBees with keyboards
\nTapping buzzing tapping
\nAnd pots of tea coming to the cream and
\nAir
\nThe tower is alive tonight
\nCluck cluck cluck on their mind
\nIt\u2019s never day around here
\nThere\u2019s no fatness
\nOnly complex problems being steadily resolved
\nStalwart hoists sucking ragdolls into the night
\nEphemeral collisions of the molecules of this gob-smacker
\nAnd an empty room
\nDoes not survive long
\nSo-called imbeciles bartering gamely
\nWith so-called sane people
\nFilling up the tank
\nFilling up the mangy rooms
\nWith moons
\nSpinning looms of naked maids
\nThe pretty babes
\nThe wretched loves of sarsy lugs
\nSuckin\u2019 tubs
\nPlaying hubbub with the town
\nChariots flicking by with bells and buzzers humming
\nSinging safety to the cuddling baby bears
\nRolling ugly in their nests atop the surging concrete river
\nCarcasses floating by
\nSomewhere a man jumps
\nHis toaster has bitten him again
\nThey both yelp for a moment before
\nThe grinding ceaseless motion of the spinning tog
\nTakes them away
\nWith thugs
\nWith kindly old ladies
\nWith an average blow planning a murder deep into the night
\nWith the lights cycling on and off
\nWith toff and spiff and nuthead in tow
\nBluster
\nA bit of piffle spat back into the wind
\nWater going cold
\nSome love dispensed down the chute
\nAccidentally
\nIt\u2019s prodding up the eyeline
\nOthers poking, the perpetual sniff
\nPoking, the parental sniff
\nThe perpetual stiff
\nThe parental sniff
\nPoking around with sniff and stiff
\nWondering why it\u2019s so boring<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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 … Continue reading