Ffooks mums got one fucking bosom! This assertive oddity, surly odd ditty, this ode to an odd titty, with its grammatical shortcomings, is rendered in white chalk on the door of the third cubicle in the boys’ lavatory. It appeared among the bristling graffiti galaxy the first week of January and will serve as good … Continue reading The Satellites & The Major Planets.
the wardrobe in the corner, high, not quite to the ceiling. and, one night, napoleonic, a guardsman, there, crouched. black boots to his chin. arms wrapped around his knees. brass buttons, gold braid, red tunic. dust marks brushed the evening. sabre, trapped. scabbard, palmed and yellow skin. he is speaking the french language … Continue reading very faintly.
the thinner spectre of the two, serene and pale and half in shadow, from the creases of the curtain, floats a plaintive lullaby into the swollen greenwich evening. her song for sleepless children. 'a painted fort for poorly cowboys, a teepee for the squaw and chieftain. a mountain range of wooden blocks to … Continue reading the moon before.
the very last words that she heard were, “hey, man! they’ve just landed!” it was late one night in ‘69 we laid her out on a big blue blanket. we carried her down to the beach through the town, there was a storm brewing on the atlantic. the needle dropped down and i heard the … Continue reading Side 2 of Beggar’s Banquet.