Pater Noster by Douglas Dunn
In memory of you, long dead,
I hang in this yet unsung balance.
I know you what you are
So you, in return, acknowledge my skill
at seeing through your facade.
Lend me your eyes, dear friend,
I shall present you with a paper ticket
(which you must immediately give back for safe-keeping).
I may be cracking up inside, but they still believe my image.
Switch the gas heater off now, let’s save
our pennies, old friend, empty wallets ahead.
We cannot slumber anymore,
our dreams are too expensive.
The world is too costly for us,
don’t make me pay.
Will you be satisfied if I flay my sea-salt skin for you?
Tear my organs from my body in honour of you?
Whitely bleed to ash in imitation of you?
See, I splay my corpus upon the floor, I kneel,
My young knees creaking for the untimely dust.
He must implore his Jealous God for
an extension on his overdraft.
8:19 pm • 14 May 2013 • 6 notes
A Man Approaches a Casket by Jeffrey Lee Owens
old hands
have seen so much.
ragged gloves with
jagged bones
hold a face with
sunken fingernails
and make sounds
like paper.
11:12 am • 14 May 2013 • 15 notes
You will become way less concerned with what other people think of you when you realize how seldom they do.
—David Foster Wallace
6:07 pm • 13 May 2013 • 47 notes
Last summer… by Rafferty
I met Brazilians, Argentinians, Americans, Germans, Italians, Iranians, Mozambicans, Kenyans and Scousers.
I ate, drank and smoked with all of them and met the realisation that my mistrust of the Spanish was universal. I saw sunsets on beer-strewn piers, sunrises from cold Berlinese penthouses and crying Britons bombarded with firecrackers, because they were crying.
I made friends with prostitutes on church steps, with thieves in cathedrals and with pram-wielding mothers in jazz-blanched Park Guell.
I was alone though for my trip to Wet’n’Wild when the forecasters warned of thunderstorms and the H2Disco required two people per dinghy.
9:20 am • 13 May 2013 • 10 notes
