pregnant, question mark

pregnant, question mark

no, the system is splanging cogs and springs all over the place while i reflect on the cardboard cutout version of katiejane edgeing her way down the street slightly ahead of me, i find that i am camera shy and wish for a time of squatting down by the river, pushing said child into the world and washing the traces back into the river, but thats not the way for katiejane, its cameras and a fallopian count, seems the uterus tips back as if over the edge of a cliff, who am i to say which what where and why?, customer services, 'what do you want dear?' if only i could begin, circumference and dimensions, body count resplendant, increasing emptyness and symmetry drawn around the room with a tape measure, i wake with the image of green algae in a bucket increasing til the green is impenetrable with her cross fertilisation and inbreed, freud would laugh at my crude speculations, i got not a poet just a wannabe child kicking on the back with a cockroach legs in the air, UCL tottenham court road


there was fiachra, neville, henry, peter and me, we were pushing and pulling, turning over, there was a black and red snake tattooed on nevilles shoulder

angels and the black earth, get me the fuck out of here, 'work is all'

genica-pussywillow sits back on her heals and spits, the sun is coming up but she is careless and picking her fingernails, she will not be stirred by the magnificence of that that has robbed her, the leaking red gold ink spills into the sky, washes down her hair and skin then soaks into the desert sand as blood, there is a white fox, temporarilly pinking up and some scorpians, her black cat and some vultures just in case