Blesok no. 33, July-August, 2003
Poetry


Whose pleasure

Michael Farrell



brick shithouse


youre good sometimes
                   could this be flawless feet through the skeletons     a hair career beckons ambition flames him
                               storing bad plastic like feelings    harrison ford      or a cop    federation dust    rhythmless     like bastards or dumb shakespeare    missile      whack      winning colour    active not sugary federation dust  as connecticut is to car fumes
                    a hair career beckons ambition flames him     having heroin just to be a rightwing dream    active not sugary    brick shithouse




whose pleasure


as far as possible     as long
                   ignore them for a while but they like crap & dig up your peonies    we learnt it in school a brain implant       thanks for the tools doctor     the red marksll fade    my hand feeling the water    for good or ill   following them      kick out the jams martha     youve overanalysed & stuffed it    cut off short bits & filled them with icecream       book    the red marksll fade    whos pleasure




argonaut


zero speed    a frank greek scream    no plural  unmotivated slash exhale     a brief peace     to avoid conflict sail      such chewy expressions to make coconuts of texture   our sole project to forget the previous    meaning enough accrued
        tension in the english sentence dad  argonaut




les frissons de brise


author
        anxiety attack    the people at the company   everything blown away    after a tacky start she managed stardom    the improving heat    at least you won a microwave rice cooker      unemotional offspring  wanting that sort of competition here  he cried at the destructive toy    the leafs response    theres oil in the river    & fields    a comfort    anxiety attack    les frissons de brise




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