Wednesday, 25 March 2009

From "Zam Bonk Dip"

By Jonty Tiplady.

For silly automatic theory
answer yes. My body says yes, my house says
yes, my tree on the horizon line behind
my house says yes. I am living,
in my soul's soul, in the soul that lives
like a wisp of smoke above by own wigwam, in the
age of the answer, in the ageless age of
my pen, my pen that never comes
a cropper, dept-rayon, that never flaps, cartoon
beauty, that never kips, Mr Flying Bike, that never laps
me, for I lap it, we lap the one the other, in the same
white chalk ring, Mr Hangman, that never even takes
refuge in
not even once, not even a mite of it.
What I find in insider psyche, nothing grows fusty in this
a tad, this tad of, this old giant tardis butterfly man.

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