Why Are there So Many Poems about Goldfish?

By | 1 August 2012

It’s not as if they speak to us of some tequila
moonscape lost to sense, though the telepathy
of our own hand-coded secrets might. Python
Technology integrates our systems more
effectively, overruns us like mice. To bolt
a metal bar to a sandstone wall and fear the
sheets tied end-to-end will cornuscate a sheer

drop defibrillates louche timefields within the shrill
carapace of our deep down landlords. Inevitably we
besot them and find no end to love but not to truth.
Arguing for the personal address you suggest
your face in a fish tank bobbing like an apple
I can’t just get my teeth around. Swimming
happily in your broad sea of alcohol

words that sound similar but are spelt differently
stalk you like Dentistry. You want to turn them
on creates a sequel for fibroid differentiation,
the whippet of rotting floorboards and bilge
cocktails Mates like James Bond in that film
about diving underwater / leaving your first love
to drown in a rough cut fundraising trailer

while all the domesticated carp you can eat still-
chair you like fields of electro-con workers, their
long blond hair and super-ramified orange overalls
Spread Eagled Energy Green spelling I KNOW
WHAT YOU LIKE, daisies and hydrangeas and all
sorts of flowery things like that.

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