Saturday, 25 August 2012

Jack Nouveau, Letters to Verlaine

You let that little turd manipulate you again
didn’t you Paul? Well without him you wouldn’t
have amounted to much, that's for sure? Even taking
into account that time you smashed a jar with
your stillborn brother pickled inside. The stench
must have been a weapon. Think of your poor mother 

staring at the foetus, wishing it was you.

Pigs trotters. That’s what you thought it looked like,
didn’t you Paul? And your wife, did you make her
take it up the arse, or was it a strictly 

missionary affair?

I can see you now, holier than thou preaching
scripture to her in the midst’s of one of your 

catholic breakdowns.

I know you might liken me to the gut of a hung dog,
but I’m here for you Paul. I’m waiting for your reply, and 

you know the funniest thing happened to me today -

I started drinking again.

I knew you’d be pleased.

I was thinking of you sat in the Maggots sucking on absinthe.
I was green with it Paul. 
Green with it.
I was going to kill myself to teach her a lesson.
A sticky bloody heart pumping lesson of plasma and
white cells, but we’re going to my dads tomorrow 

and I cant really get out of it.

Please write back

I helped you - 

Hello Paul 

It is I

Are you seriously
telling me you have
not at least met her 

bath water?

Well are you?

Coz we could mud up
the windows into a sea of mud
like mud is what you do with daylight

I have described you as moss
the laces in the sky

Don’t you know? 
Its my sunglasses that 
make me act differently
I’m not surprised your having hallucinations again.
I mean your brain is run through with those flat
white worms that made the skyline seem like old 

fogies frowns to you all those years ago.

I hear your teaching in Stickney Marshes. Is that true?
You cant get a drink for love nor money there can you?
Neither of which you ever have anyway, but it’s the 

thought that counts Paul. The thought that counts.

Lincolnshire’s as flat as a Frank I hear. That’s a lot
of sky for god to see you with. Are you really willing 

to lay yourself open to that level of scrutiny?

And on that note, should you really be around all
those young boys? Because pulling yourself off discreetly 

under the table probably isn’t your forte.

Your more likely to stand up and shout -




You dick! How dare you?
I have been sleeping on the stairs for days
a pear shaped bagpuss
set amongst new species of moth

ALRIGHT! I admit it
you had me pegged from the start
it was yours truly
who shat upon your kitchen unit
even threw it to the air like money
and whats more
I want none of it matters

nothing less than a plaything of
brothers, a Dover Mechano set drowning in ale
to say it again

that your acne is an acme leopard
and the puss
issuing forth
is an unbroken chain of footsteps 

kinned with unsteady plates
hand in hand
with the stumbling stuttering 
saint of spots before the eyes


we must be patient
for I have been delayed 

due to discrimination

the police axelrodded me
and it appears I am dumped by fate

charged with nothing
be you can clean 

and begone me

they do not yet tell
the cooking tomorrow 

has work

to arrive in your country
& ingest this very small letter

Being adept
in the art of bullshit
I am immune to 

your dungarees


& metal

if lit
paint              wishes

be gone

no longer haunt that which is dead

so every man should fuck 

his best friends mother

tell me

do you really think a hem
would make a difference to an apron?

A frozen Charlotte
who even if we phoned 

it wouldn’t matter

I 'm so utterly unimpressed 
by your longing
& your marriage no doubt will go tits up 
so memorise my new address
I am living in an adobe abode

& abide by mineral law

black Fahrenheits  of the stars

through which their missiles & missives 
cannot undo
any bridge which removes its bricks

and walls up with mortar 
our latent hero’s gob
tho you liken me to lichen

certain characters are turned to quartz

as though words issued 
abolished are stone
with all misgivings abridged

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