Black widow fields black brolly
Clenched at the curve of her spidery spine
Hunch nun, Polly run
These wide fields, loop the Arctic sun
And light the chords of 'lilac time'
Your mother’s chin projects
Like it’s pieced a plastic fitting.
Pig slaughter pink stink, grunt
Groan satisfy Bacon’s roulette
Spinning piques in streaks of flesh
from the stumps
of his voluptuous thumbs,
He makes images intellect will never make,
Injects the life he paints,
Perverts his vision through a steamy glass
Spies fleshy men wrestle, twist and
Grapple, sticky like sinew
Their movements are magical, all in his mind’s reel
With sea-legs all sulky
Melancholy strolls on a tipsy sea-shore.
And a wince at the beggar,
Like he was my brother
It’s funny he thinks me happier then him.
Bend your knees angel roué
Pierce me a word to pierce me dearly
Sitting here, all cosy, comfy ador.e
Tell me…
To which point of insanity
Could a woman love
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