Writing was Pigshit

Writing was pigshit. And then at least had some meaning. But writing - typing, saying, speaking, scrawling, penning, scratching, typing, and typing and typing - these forms of English are wearing out it's ability to do it's one basic job: the transference of meaning. At no time has the English language been so mass-media-ed, so corporatized, so academicized, so spread across banners and billboards and t-shirts and facebook and twitter and facebook and twitter. It's now aligned with the speed and relevance - as far of transference of meaning - of scratching. And anyone concerned about the meaning of scratching, scratching meaning, scratch-meaning, scratched meaning, meaningful scratching etc..., that is, meaning, and isn't engaged in weekly book, newspaper, tablet, kindle, screen dismantlement, destruction, disfiguring, so the wordscomeout anew, is apig

Stutter

In from the out. From the out there. From a Saturday night’s purr of the terrace. Purring as legs like upward milk shooting up from red stilettos into queues of teenage arses cupped in black. Purring as dry-ice billows from Club. Purring as the fights mount in beats, of taxi-driver hand grasps the wheel, of ab-cutting t-shirts flecked with Piss. Purring as tonight’s lies: go out and hear again the sax-player lie to the crowd, another drum machine. The woman near him lie through her laugh, to a man lie back through her shout. Chorale. The pub heaves it; makes molten The Great Nothing That Goes On. Leaving truth again to Our Failures: hear the sax-player splutter twice, sure and doubtlessly; see the liars’ eyes without recognition, hold bewilderment bright as a stone; and watch the girls, walking home, drop their phone, pick it up stutter

Monday A-Stroll

looks askance. learns his head off with looks here, and then looks there. and looks askance. looks askance. as if saying and thinking might do it. looks askance. turns right royal right, and salutes. this travel he says - iss 'ard. turns again. looks askance. turns a right royal right followed by a peering up, followed by a peering up. watched by what he sees he sees the top left-right corner looking. looks askance in response; in as response; in as the response goes on through. looks and sees again by being seen by this top and left-right corner again. walks more again: and seen more; and sees more. trips dream

Saturday Sketch-Echo

you don't - no. you won't - ok, yes - get it. here you will; and here you will; but here, you won't. and here, and here. this being all too much - no. this being to much. and to much more. or less, no - and less. and then to. over there. then over to again. much less. much, (or

Thursday Voce

that voice. not the voice. or a voice - that voice. they tell you it echoes your childhood; they say It tells us who he is. they say, We know him by it; We know who he is. that voice combining all your sundays; all the walking-years down dark and sunny streets; that voice that mists the mirror, and recollects. that voice? that voice? that voice replaced in dreams by dreaming. that voice the morning pulls out and lets into shadows holding walls, carving clouds. that voice becoming a shadow marking the tread of your dreams. that voice I wish she'd listen to and spit

Monday Glas

remember. yes, I remember. that once-a-world-away: certain years amongst certain bookshelves, amongst certain books, certain pages - wrong-ones always best: always the difficultest and wrongest - the ones that spelled university backwards, in long unbroken code, to us that read right, our heads on upside-down: we shafting the library with sunlight; that failed up sweat beading walls; that swim with the remains of a rembrandt torn to pieces

Friday What-Gold

and what? the what folds again? the what turns and returns? the what becomes? in amongst unsaid jeers and the ever-need for jeering - the politics of tailored rags - what holds. vertically the walls, horizontally the ground, and beyond these, walls again, and ground again. and beyond these again, and again. again. untellable gold continuum with laws for its teeth. that will crush the tellable tales down to what.

Thursday (past out

this hole where the is was. this hole where the was was too. this is a hole where the is was, the was was, and where I will be eventually - just need to dig the damn past out.