Karen Eliot



of the abyss
some document some zobbies
singing of dalek Anarchists, oh boris
oh boris, oh boris, it boil
Wet whites
eyes pour from your cunt
wait no they don’t
Meanwhile, in obviously this reverie

APHRODITE! ◦ thou resistless biscuits ◦ maid get
down off ya Pegasuses ya hi-hats we "didn't
know what to do so we went here" Ah!
shee all her enmitie nam'd ◦ in her hair ◦ Ah!
wee gold-stunned worms ◦
my motherf◦cking heart ◦ no uses has ◦ for form.

like the hawx in my till
◦ which are as relevant & repressed
as quests in thoughts ◦ w/ cash birds could
kern ◦ so ◦ ah love ◦ in all my small beds ◦ you will

bits of grass may pins my dress
but I gots medicines
of wall dress and gas
gives out bodycoat and
gen on distraction ∙ and
by your laws my new eye flaw floats

"the rich man in his castle
the Dalek in his barrack
I'll have his cock, w/ pesto
and a small side salad of his cunt flaps" here
have loads of gay crap such as sceptres ∙
reveries ∙ shagging ∙ politics ∙ morals ∙ love ∙
starlight ∙ candleflames ∙ philosophical crap ∙
dreams ∙ forms ∙ hearts ∙ ghosts ∙ plot ∙ shiny
machinery ∙ death ∙ cities ∙ trees ∙ birds
and loads more crap

holds its horns
back with its hooves
“we in
in all-fours hovered
times of
breath pandemic
inverted Hippocratic

mustard ·
plus paddock ·
plus tory bird you find
made you softer ·
so you take your hose pay faster ·
but yesterday
alarms warmed
our breaths &
we lay with anarchists w/
long wands · & the cards

yeh & the cards
rammed water voters
past the hearts of treex taught
the formation of shadows
cast in the backs of chavs
who w/ breath melted w/ enchanted
worms & chests melted w/ earth · in ropes
melted w/ poured roots & glue · enchainéd is
in glass castles like classroom wall pasta gases,

the tuna-friendly tuna baguette
the looters need by tomorrow is not
politics · exactly · yet · arise
early · some light praxis ·
the pegasuses stand aloft from the ecstasy ·
let us call an interest _____
the mosque floats up
gaseous crucifix / zephyr tax
looter (definitions)
so he flashes his tongue

* * Upon Friday, "The [agreeable] Canticle of Habakkuk" (Hab., iii 2-19) ∙
* * DO I Franz BLACKALL_Götz
* * my novelties at worst heresies
* * at best candle-vanes lit vs. hazing practices
* * piss, piss in some rom_norm_mead?
* * ∙ commencing that Day
* * nor have I raved /
* * wept, nor hourly in my till have
* * messy birds of prey reinstated, w/
* * facsimilies in mosaic, thoughts of quests

even a fucking atheist can’t deny
all free will is servitude’s weird veil, if
wanti wanti cyaan' get it
& getti getti no want it
& I am poetry’s Karl Rove
my hex pax
but a permanent realignment in aesthetics
cat clot
time knows :
time longer dan rope

"between cup and lip"
post-poet by his ∙ post
god ∙ is obliged to err ∙
of that which only he who
may love the sights
that here once more
in solemn council fit
rushing from forth a cloud
the ether-shrikes
(“a layered pit


of stung starlings”)
to grout juggernauts
to the notes of lutes
or comes from the ephors
w/ poisons fraught
w/ name, date, offices
pointed out of their aunts
I can’t say aught nor
fight aught to say e’er ∙ my wits
for cunt not hearts are set to lutes

you are exhausted, one slightly more than the other,
but both enough that it will be dangerous to drive,
though it'll be dangerouser, staying here any longer ·
you discuss confusedly between you, whether the more
exhausted should drive, so that the one's that's less can stay him awake,
or if the less exhausted should drive · your opinion
does not prevail and the less exhausted one,
which is you, drives to a mixed and evenly-spaced
spinney, mostly of birch, where you light a pipe · against the midges ·

Bonney and I find ourselves
some alight and learned bones
suck the still wheels at the rail flake more
forget this remember that
the item in my chest will murder me

is a heart mumble, silk tenses,
I love you with a love as frail
as the flaw in your name breath
I say I never loved your bait
say for instance all for want of anal

I think I'm outside
come to the window
the one lit high
in the hill basilica
no the ones with gap
scarves are so simple
it's hardly worth killing them
let us call a lie
"a moth"
(hoof gargoyle)

anarchist.  pride and joy
embroidered with
are threaded full
what zombie said &
a surgeon that told her
come quickly
out of grass, give me bodycoat &
exemplary apology
we move west, watched
by anarchists with long wands
end of the baby
purley queen
eagle taught its fragility
into itty-bitty systems
who has guts
to wash a bit of shit from his finger
time I'll dress as disquiet which pursues
till commercials. vital breast
I populate hopeful signs
give me your
ear • Catherine •
a horsefly crossing Sophie’s hard jaw
is irradiated with limerence
and manifests as moths, mouths, grace
ful childs of clit & eye flaw •
but that some cupid greaseball polices
those two guys you took for cruel twirls
I should fuck off with my far fetched weaknesses.
a billion faggots do treason for jewels
muleless, melon, bones’ fidelity to material-specificity-me,
blood fierce to Left or weakly plop to
with the pesto, the one grew with any
his joints to World daughter’s stone boil •
no is our silver cooling
my actually relish ghosts
dry breathe stabilise servile
like stone crypt / sweet fear
one hunted in goes thy cross, saints.  baptize.
its stillness leaves pesto & ground vile window

*Climate Chaos
*Washington Consensus hegemony
cams or friends(R) – for jono – cams or –
RIGHT, THY HEART : all is • naught he can’t cope w/ •
Multiply his ice • Global Warmth* t’encompass •
& wither in vapor* all his cold* crystal •
How with one South* atop a precipice
stood • one North • should each leap WILT THOU GRAB BOTH?
lean crap washed in • home at last •
serf are key, goes ovary, cones, at that
your twat starts • shits on most love,
a sudden shove of ghost tat move good love
that bang your held bind : aye, democracy
and ground two hollow vines together
the man the cane off horned of fear
numbered on that lace come sword-cases dream dream peers
head bone as old servile spice, mislay by there
touching chain droop excess can, kecks lace well • I’ve
tat up Heaven patiently cold •

how do you do?
check out my fucking face.
you can confide in me, I haven’t dealings w/ saints.  are you in bad health?
I can’t tell & that, in my condition, is the more dangerous.
how long has it had of you its hold had?
it seems an age to me since first I was taken.
have you had the advice of a doctor?
I’ve had the colloquies of a great many!
sometimes it is better to die!  what do they say to your case, is it a dropsy?
they say it is not.  it may be AIDS, but it is a new AIDS if it is.
become lucid, become sick
your guy broke
and I am like • the milk on the broom
cities cry and boots empty
I am
the fruit of capacity.
just kid me, O ballot carapace,
or what could be our bombast,
they are not fit to ring it round :
these idols and kits
"we are image cancer & proliferate"
give me hed, clipart shepherdess,
there by our brook of pure pearl.
unless passion brought our eye to boil,
no tear, my ape, shall it shed. so undress.

in the town lives a creature, my breasts –
half bird, half perch, half nest.
on its captured dancednesses,
your sly legs always will be fed.

ballot fat eyes the heart
Lights wildly blooming
buttered heart
Full, small banking
came knitting occult yakult
fringed park developing
tea Lubricate a zipper. Rub
along cookie sheet. / and rub raw
flowers head us off
u lines up to the window
flowers head us off
yet wrongs its kin, and with one
so if I call all you leftists
lollaerds & autists,
all you activists,
vain and deaf,
and the yoghurts you weave
fascism and addiction
and all you feminists
self-haters and man-haters
making cause with rapists
and all you race activists
racists and niggers
and all you anarchists bigots
without trades or true companions
or true compunctions
and all you other writers faggots
and all you faggots whingers
think the comparisons are well meant
and that I did them for your pleasures
whereto my thoughts always are bent
and desire you to take a little pains
to pry into my imagination