A BLUE DANUBIAN SUITE
1 THOUGHTS FROM HAMPSHIRE
(for my executor)
After all these years
The brutal palace
Is having an erection.
Between war-flattened wings
Its rocket stinks upwards
Of merit awards—
Lotto and lonely planet;
The crowd-sourced fake.
For hope, peer towards
Like the masses of old
Beaten, brutalized, sold
On independence, not justice.
Now, dear friend, there’s just us:
Docket these lines as below
With date and place
To qualify the truth.
22 September 2017
revised 29 September, 2 & 25 October ‘17/18 elsewhere
2a TRANSCENDENCE ON THE TRAM
A young woman offered her seat.
He declined, from a meet
Right and bounden duty
To refuse, her gift
Sweeter than her shift.
22 September 2017
2b MISTAKEN FOR
Time freed from the starting pistol.
Air with no burnt-up oxygen
Light and no distracting heat.
It is an intolerable purity.
That’s the ticket
To Dante’s Hell with its historic population.
The traitor Count Ugolino
Through frozen vomit
Chewing things over
With Kaltenbrunner, who thought methodologies
Of death infinitely variable,
Smirking at the truth of his sentence;
And Rajk shot dead
In no more than his underpants
On a chilly October morning
When he could wish for nothing better,
Except to have his calumniator
God-father his son.
two days later
3 BBC WORLD NEWS
After North Korea, the food porn.
After African famine, Atlético Madrid.
Then room make-overs, the garden fantasied.
After cocky Trump, porn language lessons
For sophomores breasting murmured meadows
Of oblivion, L‘Oréal and the oral olympics.
After a few scoops, we hit the Blue Tomato
For a dose of szazharminczbrojugulyas-dugulas
Where, meaning to pee, I shit myself—all slime
And glittering, like one of the jets.
Focused over the faecal dish
I think myself on to television,
Attempting to speak, I can only rhyme,
Reading tomorrow’s stale news
To a city-of-god without orderlies.
To work in the blue economy
Is a necessity, provided
It can be proven its negation.
5 PROGRAMME NOTE
The winter homeless of Bratislava are no less blue at night than the flesh of rough-sleepers in Belgrade. Their skin and residual contents fuel the same torch for the Bécsi schmaltz king whose Einheits-Klänge bind the globe, stepping into each other’s arms race. ‘Homeless of the worms unite, you have nothing to lose but life its miserable Self.’
The home place
3 October 2017
6 THE MILTON SHIELD (1867)
The junior executive speeds by on a simple electric wheel, the whole circus present as solitary clown. He stands, but will not serve.
The retired executioner fondles or polishes (as you like) his thick red tape, filing away the clotted knots. He waits, but will not serve.
7. After ‘LYCIDAS’
Look homeward, soviet angel,
Stony clown with feathery heels.
3 October 2017
8 THE WEAVER’S SWORD (c. 11TH cent.)
A little over 30 cm in length, made entirely from yew wood, unearthed during very recent excavations at the South Main Street site.
Probably used by women to hammer threads into place on a loom: the pointed end picking up threads for pattern making.
Hugely decorated, like every Ringerike tool, with human faces, the fabric of being.
9 CSEPEL ISLAND
A last stand in 1956.
Masada or Custer?
Among bicycle factories.
And before that?
Celtic inhumation and cremation.
And earlier still?
The brilliant blue fibulae.
Moral of these lines?
Facts are not taken as signs.
10 From VIGIL
(in mem. Agnes Nemes Nagy)
Your death lasts on, dress after black dress
Worn out. A blush of survival on the passport
Gave you away, reclaimed your absence.
All service is a grudge-gradual
Settlement between here and now.
extracted 28 September 2017.