bon'yari shita fuan.
waiting for a phone to charge,
to purchase a ten-pack of salvation
thumbing clumsily at the port-
pitiful dependence on
my better h-half.
i think of a cancerless tomorrow
and all the boredom of a,
stomach without its tumours.
as an exercise, I collapse myself
in your fashion.
walking in your flat feet.
i purchase veronal by the gallon
(or possibly shiraz)
there’s a river in the back of
the ‘big tesco’, rushing
vividly
a fetish for clerks looking at me funny.
or at least I pretend to fetishise
cos’ I can’t do anything else.
But faux-bite away a grimace
(you see-) he looked at me funny
If now. I pretend. MODERNIST NOVEL
like form and disco ‘n’ junction
.that’s not even a play on words.
there’s no such thing.
I used to be better;:
veronal in an australian bottle
if I’m the novel I can’t die.
,, so so I crowbar in the sentiment-
between hasty gulps
this one’s about:
MODERNIST NOVEL
says his wife in the river.
but the forms already bleeding out.
“Can you see my ‘eye’?”
wrestling with the impact
really kicking
the
fucker’s head-in
looking for a-an arc to hang my coat to.
it doesn’t go down: smooth
it tastes like neat vinegar
discursive in my stomach-
disco cursive
.also doesn’t work
trying
there was a point there
here
don’t remember,,
but i got back to my bed.
(you,, can’t take. that from me))
precis of the.
I say
humming
fridges
vomiting in r.p
THE SCHIZOPHRENIC SCOTTISH MIND
yeah, that.
say, it’s about th. That,
its commentary
i’m s,scared.d
of freedom.
my free lips
on the bottle of- y,,our kindness
diction
ffall apart!
fetish for
chargedphones,,,
nobasistoholdmetoegtherbutachargedphone
does t
h at cou
nt?
resolution
br.reak
ing. upwillingly:
for
i i have a MODERNIST NOVEL
Lukacs
something wry about
lukacs
i i
i have sswallowed
about a. g
a l
l o
n of veronal
forgive me for
the((w
e
a
k. commentary
l e
s
s
l e
s. s
.and
i
a
m.
less
i
loved once:
i
i
i
.