spensers tale

I the prophet Ezekiel

have now wetted my

teakettle and picked up my quill

at glenledi

where winds bite

and dark throats

smell like corpses

and flowers now are grown

from the backs of the hills
by the jetty
the woodlark drills
the lyrics

with fungy , unfunny,
unsteady

into my head
my astrolable
sits by my bed
the gazing skies primed out of lead
better to read
at darkest night
then to look into the ball
with fright
stabbing hours
as skies all cry
to gnarled tree bowers

i john dee

have written to be free

and keep away all the

poor kids

with there biblical rap cd

but hardly kept my road

straight

with stones of callous

from bones

that out wreath whales

on precepts of retail
sold by magical estate

nothing magic for sale

but reading Spenser
in my tower
is proving to show able
insights on frostbit castle
dewdripped moonlights
shining out gods power
reaping the angels
ere they come
at angles
at this hour

2:

the prophetess's head

found the river bed

in a fire that scorched

like an atlas of dread

but still bullshit stands

to be respected

I Mr Churchill

have inspected selected

reprobates found heaven rebound

the kai coal man was drowned

in his elective

by creeks murmur

or daddys ole tumour

I have nothing slept

in a black soot world

do declare these dark towns blitzing

goodnight

take a wee spark

children lettin out dark

never did me any for spight
bitten,bedridden
malaria turns dust to be quiet
routine chaos robust godwin like
fires lit up bonfires bright
as the hermetic quire
harkened back to paganisms wicked sight
hearts that hark back to a drive

some bastard just put out the light
please deprive me of something that bad

in a night

i the magician agrippa with hand
do end the poetic firmament by
my slight of hand
snoring lullaby stars
as i blew
out my nose, with
falstaffian repose
i wish the book bruno drew
from his porch was the light
i extinguish to chimney flue