It’s hard to make a picture of the man.
He likes cross currents in their ambiguities;
as if escaping, though he texts and bawls;
unknown in crowds, always in some or more.
But what real shape is he? Who is it?
He’s so distressed; he could be quite ugly,
I suppose. No. He’ll be o.k.. Normal.
Nothing that special. One of those. Like us.
What he voices! It’s like a weeping boil.
He’s angry; and pimples can be so-called
when they are ready to emit the sap.
Smell. Much tactile nausea. Damp swelling boy.
Those things he says! Abhors women. Problems
with a body and daily carcass product.
--
Lawrence Upton
AHRC Creative Research Fellow
Dept of Music
Goldsmiths, University of London
|