Wednesday, August 31, 2016

8 poems || Lawrence Upton

Next time #1

Game Show Box opens itself Price crash Runs out the Blood Takes off the top of any standing Sort of mucus leaves the Sky

some kind

Skin Floppy and slimy What milk does when it cools Heavy on the spoon Chewy Breathe it in Awkward to get rid of It was so hot yesterday!

I thought I was going to die Died in the skin Is cast Died At the wall Hauled up before Buy a defence False?

Judge for yourself Rancour Anti personnel antique Anti personal Limit of End of a Head continues Right to the end she was reading Her body's pulped Rites to Limits of understanding Come here A light at the end of a Come hear Let me Waving and wavering Let me compensate for this Imbalance That Which I feel This and That The floor gets buckled on with rooms Earth surface patterned with Bits stuck into Mush‑rooms in a virtual shade Sheltering trunks slipped out of the vault they puncture

Tumble sky fall Can distinguish our voices crying?

Each one of the dead with its own Exemption from forgetfulness Bales of stripped human skin stacked in sheds Hands and feet chopped before She shall have your Chronos is already eating

Next time #2

Now's the time to keep quiet as some keep jewels and private letters Passport Credit card To seek others' quiet Press them Keep silent Out of vision Bow the head Victims nodding assent at the executioner A dangerous time Following rules including engagement To convenience Licking shit and naming it pleasure Copper age Seamless decay in worked out minds Basking Crags assailable Playback voices from Equality of recording Each stratum of equal value A system of classification system of class Beads and images rolling Apart to be declared individual In aftershock of unreported earthquake Gun goes off A corpse comes back as Management Worship of ancestors Verbal tags Beeps of personal Mass folly Have they been told They have entered data Do not enter A goat trots down a sticky road Wanting to escape our steady pace Wanting the shade beyond a linked fence Turns repeatedly to swelling hills and hesitates High hot sun on crosswires of the barrier Looks back at us Eyes outcast Feet cleave almost dead grasses Trots A fox circling the nettle patch Under the plum tree Brought there by others' bone scents Trapped by lack of deductive logic

Next time #3

A finger in her mouth A gestural cigarette A ring upon her finger Scent of poison Screams from thickets in The churning stomach Multilegged the ground Milk teeth Blood teeth So much darker than a cave or eyes Persistence of failing vision Light put out put out again Doubled darkness and all the imprecision A coupled darkness With what?

Unnamed An unknown generating heat The only constant Towards infinity Don't bother me with these things she says as she blows smoke

Next time #4

Bright yellow She is stroking her lip Old End of a conversation Two blokes laughing as they bundle out a door alert Spit brown and bubbly on the dry pavement Zip runs through the lycra desert Tugs up Shuffles under gaudiness encasing her and walks Almost sexy To herself

Next time #5

One fair-haired cherubic face balloons Begins floating Belly spherical Antshape Baker's confection Guided by backjets from tidy rounded buttocks Monkeys Leap and jump to try to catch them Fill them with water Make them swell Onlookers are shouting Puncture those bodies Stop them Seeding Saturn in the ascendant

Next time #6

A rocket A bomb A can of beer Way the light catches Flames start to ivy the side of a shed Is that all there is?

Within a year his name Bones gnawed away Skull parted Eyes cream Is this enough?

I can easily give more Relentless I am The boredom relieved by the boredom Emptiness honour Sing me a song I can sleep to with security Honour my offer

Next time #7

Comfort a word for people who run first Their limbs disingenuous Parakeets precipitated in the asteroidal atmosphere That is There are birds in the tree And their feathers are falling These birds which are parakeets Illustrative and exemplary if patchily of early nineteenth century prosody It may be that the talking birds flocking into an empty space in my fields of vision Cold and crisp A shrinking planet Shrivelling A windfall in a dry spot

Next time #8

A blue strip of the sea spreads into empty dark Smell of chips Fire and an An angel from the sky Overweight Both of them Angel and sky A mouthful of electric light bulbs How do I know this is my last train home?

Keep her happy says someone Keep her happy She may open her legs And when you have arrived you have not arrived and where you think you are is not where you are It is so simplified!

Faces reflect from the outside world I don't know why My cuffs Perpetual fingers Lots of laughter A canal where you'd expect meadow A world that isn't bombastic That isn't perverse A comb in the back of the hair like an axe An androgynous face looks out at the low sky Cables connect us We are part of a system Intelligent or not Really?

Rely on me

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