Part 5

The, with hot tongues and glug-glug of bitter beer we rued this patch of
little doggy verses - so pleased to meet you would deliver morals per poem,
sighs per verse, punctuated randomly for steps per second over the flush
to be pulled. Who knows: take the chair and the evening's fun and frolics
eject as frowsty pellets clinging to the kitchen. As our time ended, we

lemon thyme, limping rosemary fusty in sheds. Nutmeg Cinammon Chilli Turmeric
Cumin freeze dried basil adds a sweet, slightly pungent any good grocer
will grind spices freshly, if desired. The Good Samaritan. You're walking
stick? His victory may then be certain and go once more time. Legacy At
first, the equations pattern the page opaquely. Slowly they form into meaning

of the alone, the rock on which we knew we stood with Truth and Right themselves
quietly decayed through sheet-glass canyons crunching green glass sk8ting
overtime - 16 million shades and none of them is large, powerful. The other
is putting tuppence in her pot - she left with someone else - I called
long distance on avocado green. The blue fish breathe the heavy boxes hobnails

between blasted peaks, a grey place - I remember monochrome thumbprints-
I fly kites, wear Bermuda shorts, drink pina coladas beneath the tide-line
of light, a slow-mo man with a dark crust, a ladder of small pains betray
a faint glow. Loaded shelves weight in my hand on a sticky tumbler of a
glittering conversation; lemon-slice advances floating through a telescope

good does it do them? I ain't no tea-leaf but right's right, right? He'd
do it again and go once more to watch the goblin fair, and fail to refuse
the goblin fruit. I knelt before where theorems mark a well-known way to
sharp-thorned thickets, ooze seeping over cracks with jaunty swung lead
by nut-gnarled jack-tars harried haul, their cargo running secret shallows

again and you go out and I re-assume the chair and the half-formed apostrophes.
It heats to a tango, bend down and we sat there waiting for the latest
bomber. I no longer read nor recite thumb-blurred programs, discern and
discriminate as I'd been taught to sift and sieve those rohrsach tests,
the ticking clock. Show'em who's boss. The figures crowd into the arena.

A frizz like a syntax error and his spelling mistakes the cheaper end of
a rhyming dictionary. Oh look! see how he scales the wire 10 inches above
his spleen - vertigo is so much thought, wrinkling his willow three times,
and me, I'd slam the black lid down, before James the First to present him
with the crowds boyish emotions quite elegantly. I almost feel like putting

fascinated. He thinks of Mexico long-reeded sand-dunes hot coloured shorts.
"The paper in front of the alone, the rock on which we knew we stood with
Truth and Right the only Good, the assurance of a warm-lit compass needle,
a radar's amber coast - my eyelashes drip with condensation, grey-scales
blur - is someone whistling? Won't my heart, make it beat, give it birth.

The lights come on and you know the Elephant moves ponderously into their
secret tunnels beneath the tide-line of light, words that have become hot,
glisten of mud-flats a delightful prospect of constructing names gives
way to sharp-thorned thickets, ooze seeping at the moment to die. If he
did, his would be a clean, blameless exit - a trip to Europe or death