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Jacket 21 — February 2003   |   # 21  Contents   |   Homepage   |  Catalog   |



michael farrell

Two poems




april genius

   eating plums breaking bones going
     round heating the oven what you owe
In rum waking up singing of
     him thats gone that was My great hall to
        hone in slowing down to fall the Ashtray
     sound beating the vehicles &
fish still he flies on
  any little Thing loving we
  werent hot with his cut off comb go home to yourself
oh it was something to Hear if you were
    quiet the din she hummed she was aching a cup
   all the way To
rome bringing a call
     you understand cough if the slim you departs
         flats at dawn that was my Great hall too phone home
            cynthia paul the blowaways crown you all
    sea hounds at bay repeating shrilly miracles
      Can happen the issue billys what
youve learnt lies wont cut it the sun
     shone in the real world many brittle notes
so sing be stubborn turn to what
     youve Got an orange pith helmet genius in
   a moment the fizzll be here you might see a toe
    melt true wits wasted forget your health
  smoke all Stowaways will be burnt


rubbish

no dont do that for its garbage
     a way to live without dirty Hands looking at wine acting like a man
  Trust in what you find whats given
be noticed but Negatively there are some who will see the value even
when you agree a broad & political action Dont learned what you learned
not & youll know these things
       rottenness replaces richness from A vantage of privilege people
fill the sewer
       so what patience
     & passions not a card game you wont lose
    a thing In the transaction talk at the harbour
  the pet sex In the herbs
   just the apple melting
fit as a needle for nausea or to withstand It the abdomen speaks
the hay makes a sound like pet sex you say is
    that your garbage To manipulate without a mention
of cynicism yet it permeates the text
     the river the drought leafless river dry book
thirty examples sooky & handsome without a tan or
  gold a Manner or beer untitled detritus stuck here &
   how quiet you go the mirrors quiet
its not a mirror But a motor whirring in nature
distraction the lesser or greater cuckoo wilde or genet
    try laziness if necessary throw the clock out




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