Skru på litteraturen

spattering wind is.
time arranged in circles such as o and 8 and °°.
one day more, mum, one day more, dad.
 
experience dissolves
the biggest questions are not vague.
low, so low, doddery old legs in the aisle.
 
the veracity of a verse is marginal.
i am a tv series, dark geometric shapes playing over my eyelids.
a fount of happiness is not to be sniffed at.
 

drink a black eye.
oh, this is the year people are discussing round the dinner table again, 2018?
lean towards a better yesterday.
 
oh, to play musical chairs around the grown-ups’ table.
let’s all pull ourselves out of this dozy state.
you usually adorn yourself.
 
*this is designed solely for private consumption*.
you should chase the butterflies till you can’t find the way back.

remember to tap the book (remote control) to change verse!
oh, this city has simply bitten back the countryside.
walk through changes like nights.
 
read slowly and maybe you’ll fathom the mariana trench. a profound poem.
the sun digs coal – no cola!
you love four words. time to update.you love four words. time to update.
 
ah,so charles darwin invented the modern office stool.

everything becomes impossible if you are to realize your doubt.
to be visible means not to know what’s seen.
over and over and over again and again.
 
is it all a mystery? no, only what has no answer.
is it all a mystery?
to be alone on a break in the cloakroom of civilisation.
 
nothing is more to you than yourself.
step in the manure of massive combinations.

the bounds of futility’s grounds run down the hillside.
experience is eventually forgotten.
a rampant outlook on life, shamans?
 
don’t take the first option for best.
and it came to pass one morning you were forgotten.and it came to pass one morning you were forgotten.
according to some algorithms you don’t understand; loving.
 
no sign that anyone’s here.

oh, your harried memory.
let’s all pull ourselves out of this dozy state.
the past doesn’t ask solutions up to dance.
 
hammer on the temples.
if there’s no such thing as good, why does it hurt so bad?
don’t lean too far towards me, you’ll stay like that.
 
aye, the eye is a lens.aye, the eye is a lens.
oh, you’re own unique character cannot be pinned down.

time is vertical and the sparrows.
dear saturday, you’re my favourite.
already older, seconds are all that separate.
 
in other words, feelings can get up, come in!
the red of swedish summer cottages is two hundred years old.
the spider’s web glistens like the down on a branch in the sun.
 
light fog, memory’s flight from the present.

so much trouble so much text and so little singing.
first there’s zeal, then suddenly none.
tomorrow and tomorrow, tomorrow.
 
geese actually sound like rubber ducks.
landscape with hands.
raise the focus slightly.
 
don’t fuck up my search history!
rilke thought dragons were princesses, not the other way round
when the rain turns to laughter.
 

oh, the verbs sound constantly all around.
oh, those self-carers.oh, those self-carers.
remember to tap the book (remote control) to change verse!remember to tap the book (remote control) to change verse!
 
the best things in life lie not in the act.
keen for more cool.
good time!good time!
 
oh, sorry, that’s the bell, gotta go.

in other words, feelings can get up, come in!
the finest cow was old clover.
ordinary people will run away.
 
the farmer chews his lip on his way to supper.
one is a refugee for two years.
so much trouble so much text and so little singing.
 
sanded down, sent off, into the dwindle.
aye, the eye is a lens.aye, the eye is a lens.