FIVE TO SQUAT TO

I'd rather bee a poop idyll

then papa be idle

than be a pop idol

*

pressure cooks itself (off)

corn meals itself       (off)

peas itself                (off).

*

manure

          gardener's shadow

puppet

*

if so many people were coming

to my funeral I'd be suspicious

*

make your own crooked verse

with a legendary casket up your ass

*

About an hour later, back in Azure Blues, I read this poem:

Idle Idol Idyl

a good movie will kick you out for months

weeks life

won't wait

too late

a landscape

to boot

the weeds

are agreed

just another year

out here

once & for all

the world

rather an acrobat

than an actor be

*

Quite jarred by the echoes, I was quite moved by this jarring, a kind of in-can-descence.


ROB READ