Do you know
for the first three days
after my mother died
I couldn't even find
where her body was
this was because
she was in the hands
of professionals
like arts administrators
but I did know
through an illiterate note
from a care assistant
what had happened
to her teeth. Now that
all of our world
belongs to poison's
morons, like a
fulfilment
of the American dream,
there is a sort
of comfort to be found
in Universal (United) Notions
(almost Leibniz-like)
of stupidity, and a panegyric
to be declared
to the Stars and Stripes
(in the true tradition of poets i.e. crawlers
see Spenser see Dryden see Shakespeare's Sonnets)
which I am now about to begin.
It goes so:
Fuck off America
Go to Hell G Dubbya
Rot in your saliva
Tony Cocksucker
(that's only a beginning I know but I swear it shows promise. I reckon it
needs interesting references to LangPo, apartment sublets in New York, PoMo,
tenureships on creative writing courses, call centres, Kent Johnson, cluster
bombs, messages from anthrax and Dante's Inferno)
David Bircumshaw
Leicester, England
Home Page
A Chide's Alphabet
Painting Without Numbers
www.paintstuff.20m.com/index.htm
http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/index.htm
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