Rough Beast

SomeBODY once told me about a bird that’s turnin’
And turnin’ in a widening gyre
It was lookin’ kinda lost cause it couldn’t hear its boss
As it soared ever higher and higher

Well, things fall apart and the centre’s not holdin’,
Anarchy’s loose and there’s no controllin’,
Innocence drowned in a blood-dimmed tide,
The worst get intense while the best just hide

So much to do, so much to see
Images out of Spiritus Mundi
You’ve gotta move those slow thighs
Open up your pitiless eyes

Hey now
Lion body
With a man’s head
Go play

Hey now
You’re a rough beast
Get the show on
Get paid

Your hour’s come round once more
Slouching towards Bethlehem to be bo-orn

Behoof

An archaic word, if it’s not too absurd,
Gives the air of an all-knowing Mentor.
But no-one approves when you write “it behooves”,
Unless you’re an irl centaur.

Doggerel on seeing yet another display ad in a mall

I wish they’d stop calling food
“Nude”.
It’s as if they’ve conflated
Unclad with unadulterated.

The Stepwise Palace

I’ve started posting a new sequence of things on @FSVO, not as easily summarised as the periodic table or star catalogue. They have something to do with Erasmus Darwin and a few of my other obsessions — permutations, outdated terminology and formal verse — and they don’t really fit into tweets, but that’s OK. You may like them.

Materiality 1

The first issue of Materiality, a themed journal about the physical and material aspects of culture, is about books. It features many fascinating essays, stories and poems, including one or two of mine, and is on sale at the pinknantucket press shop.

Hughes, again

On Hughes’ literary ancestors: I’ve read more than one post attributing his  style to his Catholic education. I think he owed much more to the English satirists and essayists of the 18th century. His SoHoiad, a transposition of the Dunciad to the 1980s NYC art scene, is a brilliant exception to the rule that no Jesuit can become Pope.