Tuesday, December 11, 2012

UNIT BEAT POLICING



Grille Nein, the 8 is
obscured perhaps
a tiny horse hovers
perpendicular to your
moving window
it's a common bridge
and the lit bowls atop
the roadside poles
remind you
Officer Peter Stubbe
but it's London
not Bedburg now


the drain pipe comes close
to her belly you're smiling
there are two little wheels
inside your big front wheel
and a cotton bagel to keep
your axle from slinging grease
the child salutes you
all of you along the old
stone wall
you could be attached
to a bush bigger than
your body


Jackson the Tailor
it's raining
DER television rentals
STYLE
is wearing fur coat
in the rain
a complicated bracket
near his knee
whose more of a mannequin
the one inside the glass
or the one walking past
both are for SALE
oh these Montague Summers


Peter your head has landed
like a siren on another car
the driver's forehead wings
are laid back smooth
like speed
milk runs out the corners
of her mouth
in accelleration
like snow on antique silver
and her gloved hand goes out
to stop the traffic as she crosses
with a cat perhaps
in a special cat box
they put stone scrolls
under small ridiculous windows
Officer Peter Stubbe
your face is a picture
printed on a pillow
passing by


DANCERS LICENSED BETTING OFFICE
merchants of film noir
A letter P is made of chain
umprella
wet sidewalk
evening


A view of the city and its Cathedral
a sampling of Tudor houses
you don't see one thing you know
on your beat
look again
there's a headless metal torso
sticking out of ground
putting out its handless arms
to be handcuffed
by a telescope


the map makes a psycho swastika
like a spider's web under cracked glass
the crescent moon floats
on the twisting dirty river


and you draw a picture
of the chain of command
and 6 identical men in raincoats
carry handheld radios
it looks like a pie
carried on top of four cars


the bald butcher lectures you
and three S shaped hooks hover
near two pheasants:
the bald butcher wears glasses
and an apron
you carry a leather camera
he carries a long shoe spoon


aah finally, the criminal
in a white turtleneck sweater
and a "P" coat
his hair like a black brain outside
is a werewolf
but with two broken arms
you take time to stop the traffic
allowing all the children to cross
the road
children smell nice in Winter


you stop at the accessories store
Dockham's Q, and LODGE
and silver bottles
a dog made of snow
gnaws an old wooden cloud
and frogs
watch from the wheel wells


you draw a dotted line
through the bishop's house
and put a pin in down the road
that's thunder
by the NORTHGATE cinema
KALE Y W:


quantity

housebreaking and larceny
Lodge lane the offence occured
2055 hours 18167
Entry by breaking and releasing catch
STOLEN: one paint bucket in silver
and copper and 20 players
a warehouse at Jones' Dene Cres
the final words you wrote Peter Stubbe

ich to e