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first 3 pages of my Campanology long poem

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the bell is known
in all cultures – but not known
when invented

mission bells
sing from strange halls

during the recession of 1890 mission halls overflowed
with harmonic convergence

bargain bells buy now
easy cheap & quick
bells at rock bottom

big bells
now one click
away

the woman would use her only coins to ring the chapel bells
in the community the bells made many friends
the sleigh the jingle the call of worship the sink of the warship

the woman used coins
to cover the eyes
of those who died

the bells of St. Vitas and the bells of ain’t thinking
the bells of bare bulbs and the bells of spare ribs

bells announce bells pronounce bells on coat (coaxed)
bells in buttocks (spoon in the mouth)
bells calculate divide delay
bells for sickness slithering the throat
crack of the knees eternal utter
garnish with parsley combine with egg
evaporate and try not to ride
the way a swamp operates
there was of course no chance
of ringing it in such wise as to break it
&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&


child in mine

tell tale tit
pattern in conflict:

of the mouth
of the playpen

children knit
at both ends
of the world.

canary on the cable. no ark for flood. liquid filling into liquid:

gymglossa hasp
poseurs erphoby
anhima cashmerette

swept the floors. found apple.
took back the walls. beside me.
afraid of heights. of the light.
leaking through the window

either or. suddenly frog. lucid and pubescent. fleshed out.
false hopes. of the green. of the fruit.
in looking. what’s seen. by who bore it.
we knew now only how could be god.

in how getting the bells we slipped into eros. swanstretched on the ground. bore it outstretched. as a debt for the saying. bells my babies. we knew now
only how could be god.

a grate against the door. is not the floor. a grate is not a gate. the door is not a floor.

to scratch words. in the dark. whilst other activities tap the window. to think from moving. floating. in-begging. two logs iced to the ground. parks by the motorways. bodies under trees. cream tart on the sidewalk. melting into the cracks.

strung out on words. devoid. a circuit of trees outstands us. Day dawn gloam. the power to keep. the power powdered on in the morning. shadow of hermes. orchestra of burnished earth. talk swollen and ringing.




a cockatrice is a serpent rooster dragon a corruption of crocodile the serpent star breaks off its arms as a means of defense
the morning star is a fallen star
the more common interpretation of Heraclitus holds
the universe
as not
a container
for information
any more
than a rose garden is


something there is that doesn’t love a horse

flower
bee
and
berry

something there is that doesn’t but must

tawny
pause


something there is
that lacks a purpose

shamboozled
our hands
grow thick

if you wash your hair every day
your scalp tingles
your head clears
your hair comes alive



while inked in meditation
you gave me the slip

inner thigh all mine
heart my hellium

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Maurice Scully, The Basic Colours. Durham, UK: Pig Press, 1994.
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