Catastrophes

Task: stack, catch, stack.

I’m thinking of muesli on cotton

and the slippage of boy to afternoon.

Parsimonious oysters doing their oyster thing.

Filth to think of, among narrow-bed slat-lit

pensions. Vines and cowardice,

seen from above. No final level,

just Bowser reviving forever.

Just Sebald on the dog-leg,

the news about Ted in a text

message, darling, it’s

: cancer,

emoticons for every gland’s

contraction. The topic is Ambition.

Crouching in the street,

abdominal cramps,

as the red devils spell the word GALLOWS.