Impressions in a Rehearsal Room East Coburg c. 2014

By | 1 May 2018
Each generation dreams the one to follow
with the swagger of a zoo fictions dead-end in a mottled transparency
            here, just outside of skin
the arm out
aliases & stage names
toy branches for aping manqués
& it’s a stilled ticking clock tossed
down a second-hand burrow that’s
enough to fugitive the intended scene’s
snipped ribbon

a public attraction of private anthropologies


self-displays of self-conservation
a three-bedroom dyad or arrangement of chromosomes: ✗ and/or ✔
when the males accounted for one more the Lost Boys junta-ed
fursuited in IKEA’s ark


“peel me a mushroom
went the owl onesie, shaking its tail like a prolapsed bowel.

“dooood you need to do more Hegel exercises!”
retorted Dr. Bear before he was a tiger with an undone fly

“remember when you both did youtube kung-fu and yer eyeball came out like a male nipple?”

“additionally, Ca…..Kar….KAh….Kuh….’s a bit of a cagey prick!”

…the wise one resumes, grabs hold of himself & takes the lictor
            through the Hula Girl bamboo beaded curtain
            disappears in an I goes ⅄ then I

            “it’s not the size of the glyph…”


            zipped crypts same as Disney tall-ships
            a panda, wipes its mouth with giclée print princess
            “what’s yer angle?”
                                                “I lope tropes…or lop hopes…or…”

trams mowing outside, chins swiping inside
some go down swinging, holding bad breath
emitting excessive saintliness
each turning way	faces pale
listening for fractured feeling
“voice” gets wandering barefoot
in a bear suit
sleeve up: “aw guu need ib lobe”?

                        “it used to say, “all you need is love”

            “yeh, my hibiscus is sagging these days”

                        “oh that? that was Bambi”

                        “why not!”

evaluative catch-ups as consumption ‘ssumes
song of the Donkey that sat on the SINGER
plays on the depressed vinyl flooring

            “have you checked your feed?”

not a surface spare in
the superstructure of the fridge
first name: surname of a neo-liberal US President
one wonders…
that’s apocryphal torque!

            she’s two pairs of parallel lines
            no personal	not social
            a self-divorcee, refugee, from neglect
            a hand should arrive sometime soon…

            should never have married
            was thinking with her dick
            as it turns out
                        bits were incompatible
            for mental penetration

            “☹ u r!”

                specular glint in the BIG CUMMER’S
                    optical organ


steps out the back, door at the front
she gets the news digitally these days
quick, with long matchstick finger
            “the right poem can only really happen when one attempts to strike a coarse portion of

she goes, she goes: “I wax an old woman/her epigrams/purge/what’s left/of those/sentiments”


interlocutors up to here  as a magpie in its bits of a bird book nest, croons 
atop a Devils Fig

in twinkle-twinkle terms,
a daddy-knows-best goo-goo ga-ga-ing
by ma ma’s hair loss gene coochie-coo-ing
cha-ching cha-ching-ing after every enactment
& letter etched in the putti-putti stack o’ futured
have-it-all from a car deaf to a home moan!

“chirp-chirp”      “chirp-chirp”    of such loci


once upon a time there were five days sated, 
a disappearance of memory functions
what direction
acquisitive, bright
prods between previous places or
makes a new bed crowded more
with pilgrims
11/17 bulbs
left flashing in the arrow

Alice & Co., dissociates
an OM tattoo on oranged skin
someone objects, it is noted, it is removed
they all are.
pale rectangles of an off-white wall replete with mould brocade

                        “why not!”

“do you remember what aisle your shit is usually in?”

straw hut, lush palm: gone grey in the sun
glade, nymph an exotic other FOUND
in every second edifice in the North

            less “documentary”
            more “situated-ness”
does or doesn’t it stack-up?

Mee-ruh! Mee-ruh

the shape of the ‘jectification
the black glass that throws the light
that colours faces
                        “why not!”

            “it’s wot the ad say’d”

Look-it-up!             Notice. Black. Deep blue. Notice a speck. Then another. Then another.
                                 Another appears. All appear or were they always there? And soon, the
                                 entire plane is cliquant with a cacophony of me too me too me too me
                                 too me too me too me too…

other notifications tick: your white hairs” -sit down & eat- “everything tarnishes”
here, my grandmother’s recipe for an ampersand

“a thank you” built to scale, sympathies too schooled.

“fuck your ambulance-chaser-feminism & your recuperative hetero-hegemonic…who’s a fucken click-cunt!?”
chimed the bull in the END-TRANSMSSION tights.

“my motorbike can outrun the tectonic plates!”

“I’m on yer side grrls!”



                        “why not!”

            “you have a pregnant pause of a penis…”

mapped, the cuniculi smudge-scape table
market-me-in invisible targets of
a unitary code pouring veils over 
uncleaned mirrors
long used to ideologies, some look
to look away

“I bulge in my box!”, she odds.

“I shake my lobes”, she adds.

there’s literature on it, no
films or video art as yet
unfulfilled dreams of awakening
            & then the Wizard
before work puts powdered milk, 
boiling water, sugar & 
alphabet pasta in a bowl
for the accident child

we are not how
we wish to be
but how we






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