Original Work

[Ren1]

in the vulva
of unmarried virgins
what a fool
sleeps like a whorefull of yesterday's
in dancing clods
from the pocket of change

that's what makes me kiss
the pure of four giving Nessies
like the fools of the Christmas desserts butter brandy cream
and the spring cabbage with string beans
of drunken poetry critters
so I wander like a dribble of moonbeams
in a J G Ballard's pyjamas
I'm witless and a fool
that smells like a midnight train that hasn't been vacuumed yet
the space of badness

when will we know
the longitude/latitude co-ordinates of Devon