Graze Monotony (2007)

Ringo and Bess

there wuh once this bloke from down our way
nice on the day, quick on his feet,
ne'er a dawdle down riley street
he’d hand us all sticky-finger photographs of his fair betrothed, the damsel
a strawberry doll with the devil looking at me,
anally raped twice or thrice with her look on a withering wall of past-tense Polaroid
a solenoid, nor catalyst, a woman borne to bear no cyst nor scorn
of man, to needle til wake and bleed his sockets
where the eyes once ne'er sat in a drawer, her drawer of raw intentions and
the soft spheres gooed up on pins wi' pupils pulled apart in dishes
...
...first impressions.
the rim of her hat surprised me, it wasn’t edged with silver,
borne to cut or slice a man into equal pairs or thirds or fractioned meats
laced in haemoglobin? Fleshes and fats of veritable venison for ribbons,
brain and lobal matter mushed aside as sweaty bubble-wrap, slimy to the touch,
merry christmas RINGO.
His grin was bloody, shid-bin two-town...
His poor dentist!  When it came to money he’d’ve fucked it
and we all knew, everyone I think I thought I knew and now know
except for the bash and the full and the whims in Ringo
that his dentist had a hat, laissez-faire
black n' begrudging upon strawbry dol 'air
...second impressions.
an THOSE COUNT