Haemorrhage blue


Red.

And as if a cut hung throat

can ever

alleviate

it

and has just come through

darkness

just a worm

cup full

of blood

in a whiskey

smile

that catches

light

upon the wall
and your scented dust
will laugh
forever

shake my torso

clean
by my window
from where your thighs
stand
upright

i could not move for a few
days

calmness
blew my doors down

you never really laugh
then
you need your twenties
nineties
and then more

to make hands know no sun
and how to take
it all

the sheer
servitude
of it all
baby

make my life gush inside
a normal day
as gods reverse
a contortionists dream

from your perfumed knuckles

machines insane
plants insane
and humid night
ok

beds fly from the bosom
of your disgust
and humour
of being begged
and mangled

hands in the street
which are not
there

and the motion collects
our being
but lets not worry
about that

more
the organic day
and the street has let its last heart
burst
through
its
lips

into garden shops
and family
whilst you never do

look upon that great
amputated
growth
again

but now
with all the chemicals in the world
flowing
without you needing
to be high
as they already catch
the moan
the fires of grey torches
find all the ships
and are midnight
and the fires of amazonian pulse
secretly sweat out
our growth
with
or without us

leaves
nudge the cheap electric
towards light

and as the jungle street clay may collapse:
a woman shaking her head
on my window, not there
as the wood pane was
as her sinew and grace
definitely
was

and all of the art was placed
inside that bag
needing no air

a non lazy day
sent from no remorse

as behind the eye
there is none
and where there is
it slumbers
so should be that end
taking it out

as the coliseums
forget

the gladiators
like hell pearls
dropped into song

and the first heroes
die like the first
cowards

all aching stomach
chameleons

fed feet forwards
coming up from the ground
dressed in compulsions sadness
madness
bliss
and glory

there is no where.

insects run
not even a lace
upon a dream
from winds
damned in memory

but the gales
the same intricate wind

flock magpies
immovable
flutter

iris blinks
a delivery of woven
mammal
types
that were so much more
hungry
than life
dispersing
from cores
of Earth
that easily skipped
and timed the death
of planetless
cries

so armourless
are we

angles
like green
angels

giants
walking over
grass

bending over
and in
the sunset

with mutual aid
our gestures to hounds bust
like clear clouds of fur
lining not only themselves
but the germs
within
themselves
bathing loose
near by

hand in hand
sending the walls up and down
like good
and bad lust
smelling in it

the quiet sound
of crocs
crying the shouting sound
of pristine
swamp
of colliding string
chords
in orbit

and even when we are sleeping
the new earths rythm began
where nightingale
wears not out the worm
and the ocean bleeds
new heaths excited
born

and under such extremity
the only call heard
is that of the shattering call

of over and under the call
of looks that only cellos can break
by playing

from the energy in caress
and the birth of silence
long
and ever known
the base of all shadow
and chimera flying
the base of all need
over lapping

coats and horizons coming up
as the fog is too thick
and it’s a bad
time
to travel out

flesh me
a window love
made of you

i wont come out today
yet i see hearts dressed
in terror
and applause

they act
where the gust has been
as if those hands
can eat
apocalypse

fermenting hands in the crowd
able to kill
the street
before…

avalanche brakes
as you pull back a bow

sent from the the string
of our rib cage

bones of price
cadavers in the light

along that
dripping arrow

of despair
its arc is in one place

as we both pull it back
its eye
and its target

shot from your sighing lung
no more

so die the germs of death
as there is no abode
for where the arrow
may fly

but that short dart
of our spirit
illuminates

lilies collapse as the rain
touches the streams

the trees bend down
and pick up
even a worm
on the street near a park

if it all still moves
at all
in the shower

the roads germinate
our reflections
as we wash
and are smoothened
in our
particular clothes

hymn
and the hybridic
charm

of nothing to say
but the heels of our mind
the countertenor
baritone

and sounds of water
plume

from your body
and where
i find you

and we just

go.

renemutume

is Raoul Moat in a boat. His first words were ‘Newky Brown’. As well as being our most prolific writer, René also creates graphic art, paintings and screenplays.

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