Ode |
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(To Daniela Denby-Ashe) On Vegetable Station Bound for the last train to Dresden. ChemicalKid: The bearable angelus Kicking in windows In shoes of disturbance: Tess of the Firmament Talking ontelephones Strung out in forbidden basements. Tracts of primeval apartments Slowly returning To absolutejungle; Primitive doorstep Locked in the soles of my shoes; Deep in the heartland Of Thomas’s pasture, Where Virgil contemplates Sensible footwear, Crafted from batteries; Slightly distorted in air. Eleanor’s borstal In a land of pure oxygen; Sand and oscilloscopes Start to unravel Under the floorboards Where Uncle Amand Feeds upon dishwashers (Something to contemplate (Each time I wander (To where my office (Is totally normal – (My balconies structured (From strands of clematis.): I sing from the workshop Of soft manufacture, Each time I monitor, Withsome persistence, Light-life in waterways Where my intended Suddenly got up to dance. The bookshop of Poverty Started to sell me Volumes of candle- light Selflessly shown to the homeless. I often emoted, And you agreed That oracles fall in the season Of Tonto’s conversion To states of the Cross: I lift up the stones of your quarry To find that beneath them live wonderful gnomes Illegally forging a passport. Washrooms of borage In which I investigate States of disease, Caught in the cross-strokes Of accurate armies Who fall to their Alamo Trying to cope With the pieces of paper That endlessly generate Out of the window Which stands in the lodestone Of Mulciber’s bannister. So to the stars… Sarah’s in bed with you Some of the time. Slight shiver breathing. Her eyes are incredible Like soft pools of starlight Sensed in the morning of time. I tried to envelop you Under the carpet With bosons I think about From moment to moment; At least when I’m walking Down permanent lanes That lead to the glory Of Harlequin’s kitchen: Electrons in Hungerford Bridge Start to disintegrate, Leaving commuters To steadily sink In tides of dense traffic. Mendicants put on The clothes of confusion Endlessly worn By managers structured from cardboard. |
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Ross Chapman | ||
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