flat.fish.flesh

He’s doing that big booty, skinny leg and hoping, goose step, in deliberately provocative straight lines, too & fro, right there in front of this bench. Damn annoying in this cold weather.

I have finally found a thing I can’t find
& I’ve sought high and low for stuff of it’s kind.
Went searching for summer, discovered it fine,
and I bump into rock stars, film Gods, all the time.

So it must’ve been fantasy thought that I had
that made me trust our town would give all it had,
for they are too fancy to palm from the start
because London folk never took them to heart.

A plucking of the human chord
is tinted by one hundred tones,
each rung out by another strummer’s
picking on the playful bones.

Winter winks at night, it follows
drums well beaten into pathway,
grabs the chance to lead one wayward.
Tempting taunts, can’t turn away.

Skins get rhythm from the down beat,
beat the syncopating dance beat,
beat the world between each footstep fall
and every coming heart break.

Smile condenses on cold lenses,
wipes the window free from frosted
glance that taints this evening’s glasses.
Honeyed hints hurry, heeded.

See the season’s city shining.
Stretch yourself out from today.
A light alight will slowly smolder.
Let some lyric line the way.

You eternal yin yang emblem,
writhing joyously through space,
such a loving twist between them,
tightly bound into the race.

Ancient serpents tails are chasing,
see how follows each from each,
slippy sipping, salty tasting,
breakers dash along the beach.

Darling beast that bends with arched back.
What a carnival of sport!
How is this knotted thing? It not lack
loss? How is it never caught?

Urgent wrestlers crawling crab-wise,
on fresh sands, beneath the sheet.
There their tangled limbs & low sighs
rise and fall with each heart beat.

Contorted spiral, whole that love makes,
climbs to reach the final O.
Easy now, a gentle wave breaks,
slowing ebbing off to go.

It’s not the sort of mark that reddens
arses seated long on benches.

Not a healed up scar on forehead,
shattered glass let bleed and glisten.

Might be a thing we couldn’t challenge,
& so spent many hours thinking.

It was a party you took part in,
dressed to gain all our attention.

It is a strength of certain loving,
rejection of your doubting brothers.

It will not let me go forgetting
any of these tendernesses.

This shade of blue cannot be sad.
It’s just the other side of glad.
Neither dull nor dumbness be,
it’s as bright a hue as love can see.

Such tears that grow from strength to strength,
mark joy & smiles & love at length,
not shed for some old dreary thing.
It shines and stays continuing.

Wreckless Ruth writes and ripens really raucous records.

Blisters bubble down inside me,
waiting for their chance to open,
readying to burst out over
all my pinky white complexion.

Blisters ripen into ripples,
spreading out across my fingers,
swelling, popping, preparing to
cause me great affliction.

Bastards take the bus each morning,
all their boots & bags & bargains
clutter up the aisles and doorways,
annoying me to much distraction.