Just received this:

A rabbit carcass in its stiffened fur.
Gray the cloud-like oaks
Between the high and the low, in this night.
A salamander scuttles across the quiet;
The weight of being born into exile is lifted.
XVI. Laying a Ghost: The Jeannette and the Fram,
The high whites spread over the buried earth.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
(The face of a Quos’ ego),
Now that you notice it — have just moved past
Whiteness, those pediments that rise
Astonished that you have returned to go:
Yes. You’d want that said, (if you turn
Right, and appears from here to be overcome
Of Boyg of Normandy . . .)
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Lucky the bell — still full and deep of throat,
Partly stone, partly the absence of stone,
In a single floral stroke.

Mind boggles. Still, it’s settled my problem – I’m going on holiday to The Boyg of Normandy next year if it’s got all this weird shit going on.

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4 Responses to I Love Spam

  1. Eat My Shorts says:

    ‘Fess up. You wrote that, didn’t you?

  2. Lucy says:

    Bloody hell, how crazy do you think I actually am??

    On second thoughts, don’t answer that.

  3. Chip Smith says:

    Is it just me, or are the last four lines exceedingly dirty?

    Oh, right, just me then. ;-)

  4. Lucy says:

    No, I thought it too. The phrase “deep throat” in the same sentence as “bell” is enough to make anyone chuckle, surely??

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