Lecture Notes

An extract from a longer sequence, Lecture Notes.



Enter when ready.
– ((whoosh –
the door undone: an armistice with your reality,
tread of lost seeds into threadbare texture,

cast a cold remedy, a diffuse panacea
it numbs the most distressing of the symptoms,
exacerbating others
– check it out:
an unfamiliar name




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such a gorgeous glossy rulebook! – nestled in the centre of the waxworks –
the spark of the game’s in its stillness

you could have your photo taken,
your soul would hardly notice
how many admirers whisper

– in the corner of the camera –

a ghost face, seeped into the body,

as a blind mannequin punches the pane.










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her mouth’s a splendid artifice = two ways to read it

– rictus affirmation –

the pulse of a bird on the wing of your breath
she tips it against the ivory inch
the “agony of irony” in fiction

tripping over the wall, skirts multiplying
as a blushing angel holds his wings

“Is that an arrow?”

feather your quiver of fingers at the clouds.





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it pays to be // to orchestrate becoming
ambition’s splay is what it’s all about // the list of gold to the font
the lip of god overarching the fountain //crystal limits
cutting lapidary terms
she whispers implications in the smallest natural print an ant to the slaughter
march of the marginal tab


your check’s unbalanced // past the post










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the peach of your flesh is
extraordinary – look how life flushes under the sun

a tie can indicate your personality

the knot’s a satin rush; a pool of silk to the lap
the way the hand alights like grace about the throat

I wish the pendant matched most / everything she wears
then the differences

the would-be jewelful –





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after a death the prose slows up.

the mortuary keeps its sake

the drawers pulsed shut.

each sheet’s a swish redundancy

(and I thought I had signed what you ask me to sign)

there’s something trying to land

I twist my vanquished hand in semaphore

and can’t believe there’s more to mark

the swirl when you close my lids –

divine




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look at the sliver of doubt for the liver//
one too many shifts of vision –


not to trust the eyes, when fiery particles
blister on the inside of your veins.

you watch
– you ticking clock –
reach a new sphere with the pressure puffer

the head of a kitten on his shoulders!

(always the other civilization
has the dogs’ heads)





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on the record or not at all – the fabric of imaginative recall’s unrivalled
(her unravelled hair)

a slow, even tempered delivery.

an early morning raid –

“the taste of egg stays me – the knowledge I got from domestic circumference”

– touch of the river though, in a head like that –










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the address you wanted’s on your desk
beside the pile of slow-subsiding footnotes
beside the drained cup and denuded sprig
behind the heaviest of tomes and the
statements delayed their moment of deliverance



I sit behind and to the left of you
texting insights intermittently

I love localities:
you are beside yourself.




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