That's where you're wrong actually.
I'm not gonna ask someone to send me some of their work, all the way to another country, and then not even read it.
And anyway, I can't send them cos I threw them both away years ago.
green glazed knot in the water ridged meniscus
submerge and reappear in subtly rearranged
universe. other light ratio other emphasis
of air. hereditary invasion italic sprite
gabled obtuse to flow pitched against
Meet and greet grope for common ground
every grotesque is a diary entry
an irritant in the memory
a grievance a grudge against grim time.
seal it off/airless chamber of wax beauty/breathe
elsewhere lest it decay.
keeps coping what conflagration keep us
distance purge again again.
sentence set radially rainbow o the whole round
dirge pack piano action turf parade now
crash-land in a place which heretofore never existed
branches break birds escape screeching considerable
tumult. dandelion birch the larch the vegetation
growing inside the crook of car tyre
the oil on the puddle the precipice overlooking
the other world.
feeble bone fraction crone rise
babel dawn chorus speak defect tan treble tone tap to
root gather grouper gasps in other media the ticker
tape of scrolling headline frogmarched from a to b
heath vetch gorse flower vetch beech.
vision this fierce fleeting fast nerves pitched to
terrible sensitivity registering each tiny
fluctuation in conditions so meadowlark pipit
so spirit of wind so sweeping west over the total
plateau so you believe it even so you feel you
can catch it, hold it to the chest in a violent
tenderness. scupper planning permission squander
certificate injunction squall of the bounty wasted
curse of cursing cursed.
dare you cross that
threshold panic at the limit
botch it all for want of courage and determined
faith. is that it? responsive
evading the thumb carrier cattle transmit perch
grave needle grave settle passage hill tomb break
at extreme east crossover into other
asthma cheated slump habit dump hex forsaken intent
the same mistake indefinite return.
quail, insipid prayer admission of defeat no nothing
left to lean on emptied out. geese in lachrymose
mist pouring out the grate, along the
gutter, groping for another, searching for a second,
the condition of total loss.
Dream in which Bobby Bisto was my handler in some sort of psychic intelligence agency which investigated objects which were conduits for paranormal forces, but I'd received a postcard depicting the first object I was to look into and it was his typewriter.