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While we must stare 
And love disease 
In leisured sunny days 
The final crow ejecting 
And you my mind again 
All through the knocks 
A cheap sand snatching 
That seas cannot time 
The quartz palaver 
 
Stating this and thick in worn 
Pyjamas again a loss of 
Breathing then hawking 
To itch on pale distemper 
The silver flanks 
Of fat and felt 
In mild grey tonnes 
By wild doors calls a town 
Such sudden extravagance 
That strays well from 
Cold localised herds 
Justice reeks at sky’s bevel 
Stones fattened on pillows 
Stones fattened on milt 
A monstrance tipped again 
Otherwise else in shingles 
Keeps you out keeps you 
In worn adulation 
Ticking for the bowel crime 
Rockaby queer free one now 
Rockaby rockaby 
 
The microphone 
Is dead as postures now 
Engines purl on purple 
Indiscriminate anvils 
Touching the wavehead 
Headphones cracking 
Whilst mother at her wash 
Mouth tense ash face 
Frozen up in mud wet 
Seething over yellow 
Caul taut and packed 
With violet scenes 
Of change how dear how dear 
Our corporate dances 
Lifting bony boxes 
And soiled cubic rage 
To freshen this pancreatic 
Parliament 
 
All first to time’s 
Sour luggage 
Our shadow kept for extra 
As each feathery 
Proboscis scrapes across 
Our tiny scales 
Music failed in little days 
On shifting 
Entelechy a mass in which 
Imperfect azimuths are love 
Your sloping girl blue 
Haunches glissade on stains 
Over tolerant cable 
The wire clear the den bright 
As mouth tense ash face 
Frozen up in mud wet 
Knees bent to ideas 
Bent as old grass still 
Toils a weakened pelt 
Outside the good room 
 
Now nickel draft of tears 
Iron sheets and troops 
Happy under tensile steel 
Happy under total 
Blasting the info good 
Condensing in what core 
Fandango 
Face still hung 
The cables wet above 
Ten thousand 
Eyes still sagging ailing 
Beyond the positonic 
Cleats of will 
As shoddy lips 
Enunciate the bitter searches 
Yet again all again 
A tonic for what void as 
Sharpest teeth go chatter 
Chatter blighting now 
And biting 
On the measled grapes 
The tongue in its waxy haven 
Shoving on and on 
Cheering frozen gulls 
While lips invoke 
A money shot stuttered 
With the tousled stars 
Replete by that perspex 
Room amplified but mute 
Mouthing still 
And still unsaid 
While we can stare 
And spell our pale disease 
In leisured sunny days 
 
 
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