Tuesday, December 11, 2012


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
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

merchants of film noir
A letter P is made of chain
wet sidewalk

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


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