Considerations in the canonical Iexicon I

Many a fan opts for the wong wang
Presuming this good enough
Yet, they are unsure of this
Under cooked, unready, insufficient cowards
It's just not cricket.

Totally gone fishing - Considerations in the canonical lexicon III

I had totally, totally
Absolutely gone fishing
Slipped down an alley
To a canal outside Issing.

Sat on a bank
With all my cares missing
Calling softly “Oh fish, Oh fish,
You are my need and my wish”.

Unspooling the reel

Drifitng the line
So I might catch a meal
Of fresh fish so fine.

Then snap, line taught
The hook bit
A carp caught The reel gripped.

I wound the baton in
Slowly turning the thread
Watched the spool fattening
Heard what the string said
Singing, a tail battering
The water, the fearful head
Then with a moments slackening
The line slipped, the fish fled.

It had the measure of my reel
The bite was not secure
Now the surface won’t reveal
But it watches me I’m sure.

I sat calm on a bank on lovely day
The reel once again empty
It wa a fish that got….
Anyway.

Necessarily odd. Considerations in the canonical lexicon II

In thinking of this
It is necessarily odd
To work it
Logistics, what knots can do
Tuning, before the bus
Runs on its circuit.
Opera, necessarily odd.

The energy complex, et cetra
Its webbed infrastructure
Deprecated by sunshine.
Now in tin shacks like rush mines
The warehouses advance
Major complex, compute
The variables like ants
In a faith who could call cute
I turn to look, repeatedly, repeatedly
Everywhere now see lovely man.
Necessarily odd. 

Anti-inflammatory literature III

Arms entwined in Paris, spring coiled in bud 
The gardens of a Godolphin house fettle
From showers we sheltered in the lea, settled
Over coals sausages cooked, sure in love
As bright flames swelled, the local Church bells rang.
We did not need your fan
The winds, gusty, were good enough.

The cowardice of all

The shit
The caked crust of filth that films this world
The scaffold of lies only the high believe
The evil
The cowardice of all.

What confronts is the grinding maw
A gate of knives, hammers and rollers
The life from here architected by treason
The evil
The cowardice of all.

The delusion eats its tail
Waves censers in worship
Of its own undoing
The creed with which they poisoned the South
Drips as theology from stitched mouth
The evil
The cowardice of all.

So weak of mind we give our minds in fear
The stolen structured schizophrenia so exactly
What is to be done. Who will do it 
While these routines run and run
The evil
The cowardice of all.

This epoch is derelict at its outset
All shuffling papers in banality of amargeddon
When called upon, where have the good gone ?
The evil
The cowardice of all.

Ayutthaya

I, a traveler from an antique land

Where the jungle parts saw a red brick stand

Sat atop it, two folded legs of stone

The torso shorn, still held command

Over a cityscape of rubbled brick

Red stubble of sacked streets and Wots.

Upon the walls strewn thick legs and arms

Split naked bodies carved of rock.

Still standing were the bell shaped forms

Lords entombed in solid brick

That ape masons from before their dawn

Who thinned and cooled the muggy tropic.

There, repeated by a hundred hands a hundred ways

Still dusted clean, a hundred shattered visage lay

Who's smiling lips and downcast eye

Knew well the folly of all earthly works

Sabbe sankhara anicca.

Mint growing from the cracks.

Shrapnel 529

I believe a racoon dog in the forests north of Wuhan Is the one true typo A lost bat, shivering in cold, a thousand miles from its tropic home The dog sheltered the bat They rested curled with a civet cat Then together, got high-pressure diving suits And journeyed to a deep ocean thermal vent. The one true typo lives on