i am stood in
that world of sheets
within the rotary,
billowing walls
whipped,
miles from anywhere,
my hillside.

and streams come
off me. prism
white and split-
colour noisy as a
roundabout. where
you been? he asks
and i am never sure,
not entire

absolute sure. see this
bit, i shift my hair
over an ear. see this
dream i made, it's
wonderful isn't it?
the babble hits the
atmosphere and
bends,

pummels its way
to the outer. away
from the open graph
where the entire universe
is the sleep-drool from
my mouth,
the way you see me
hard as a replica.

my hydraulics keep me
in pulse, govern
with an iron grip say
go! and go
i must. i hit the
atmosphere,
body shredding to
filament. i am a comet
of want, a tiny death.

dat rosa mel apibus
you say,
one trouser leg rolled,
a cross of twigs in one,
a thorny mouth
in your hand of
lucid dreams. help me
to help you! i could love
you if i learnt how.

the day is a brochure,
a thing i'll never do.

reading death in the rain and finding
the bowl of oranges too still. unreal,
until i knock it over-
do something.

love someone
without strangle.
walk to cafes and drink unusual tea,
catch the eye of perfect men
and send your tongue to them.

put my fist through the window and drag
my wrists up the glass-

in half,
like pig heads on a doorstep.