older ones (unfinished)

6th December 2010
Via di Roiano, Trieste

I am a tense cannibal
think deeper
above the fury
hop flop into hope
30X30
illusionary surfaces
we have many minutes
we have you surrounded
keep swallowing your dog hair

12th December 2010
Trieste train station park

Novo Hotel Impero
(left shoulder)

stairs to tunnel
(right shoulder)

bench
(ass)

kebab ali baba
(eyes)

30th November 2010
Trieste Train Station Park

fake easternness
coming thru the camel
below the humps
scream or at least spit
instead just stood there
hands dried out
pigeons pigeons
I have a wrong pen in bad light
this bora waters my eyes
to rattle your cage
to lick another
dog's bowl
perhaps you would prefer to make other arrangements
oh I say it rank
stop feeding the messengers
the elements deride
I awoke on the roadside


25th November 2010
Trieste Doggie Park

is that you in front
of me
coming back
for exactly the same?
I have a name
I have been given a name
more than once
tried to change
IT
I'm learning to talk
DIRTY

WALK TO THE SEA
WALK TO THE SEA

these beasts
are good
to think with
though i seem
tame
i speak for my name
in name only

CAUGHT MY SLOPPY
COPYIST

acid reflux
sun
on grass blades
lady in brown boots
and pram
with worn out
curls
a thick matted
dog
sniffs my shoe
there is a tree
born crooked
never got straight
made promises
never meant to keep
good morning
yoga



24th November 2010
Trieste, Doggie Park

I'm yr father's mother
lick my nipples
I'm growing
up strangly
plus scroungely
we're all here
giant little monsters
to feed
if i am lost it's only
for a little while
all past efforts
buried
in our stomachs
sneezing out the seasonings
noli me tangelo
POMP ROAST
earnest driven
been down here
day after day
this template
is not my heart
piggy toenail
has split again
change my changling
darling
i'm a quick wet
with street-wide eyes
calling for you
everywhere
I'm not a fat house
cat
i'm not a poisoned
rat
butterchrist mouth
all told
i have no after-
taste
in head shape voiceskin
this is my kin
in their very own
private BORA
give me a beat
make mock
of neither beast
nor foul
praise the winter
plum
no trinkets
no poems
mistakes tread their own
grace
in this valley of fish
eyes
feast on nooks
my veined one