bits and bobs unmolded from the London notebook

I'm testing my banality.

Do you see this moon tissue?

Snail shells were once used as an allegory for both grave and resurrection.

The bright green and orange parrots are outside my window. They are beautifully lost.

There are more things in a closed box than an open one.

Make haste yea gentlemen who ride across the seas. My housemate awakens furniture that once slept.

Every morning I give a thought to saint Robinson Crusoe. Waterbugs floated on the china plate.

Q: Was I in yr tummy when you were dancing?
A: No!
Q: Where was I?
A: No where.
Q: Where is no where?


If you want to see the mirror then say please. The banality of the situation requires attention. A small lint free cloth, two pound coins, a small twig, and unresolved scum clogged the washing machine. I cannot proper myself completely. I imagine a forest life surrounded by friends in plaid shirts and muddy boots. That lady told me I lack male role models. I'm still forever spelling my selves. Every poem wants a freedom. Give me back my bones. What hides you? Who is giving you a hiding? How do you hide? Being starts with well-being. Lithocardites are heart shells. Images set verbs in motion. The French proverb says if you steal an egg you steal an ox. Houses are made from liquor and saliva. What is the dreamlife of language? The wing is near the engine. Every land a jigsaw. Etwas schnell. Eat the snail. Listen to me. I need a goading. Will you goad me? A tight squeeze of the lid doth not drive away wrath. Behold my face how it bores me. More and more went in and more and more came out. Folks pay a fortune for their lives.