When she threw the toast and
much of it lodged in my right ear and
a crunchiness developed
in my hearing and
something dripped
from my nose
peanut butter perhaps
I resolved always
to avoid
this kind of thing
at breakfast

This giant toenail under the bed at
Hotel Tatin, Lamotte-Beuvron, 1880, Room 9
is not mine
its immense
must be 3 centimetres wide
Common sense
tells me a mature orangutan
boned his rangy orange paramour
and opened up his heaving hairy heart
then decided on a pedicure
before his next Parisian tart
tatin
tatin
tatin
3 sisters
all into cooking
all tarts

for one the other night
they were asking me:
“Does your old Dutch still chew steak knives?”
I said “No, though she’s still a good sword-swallower.
She’s taken to chewing Scotch Eggs
and she spits the gristly bits
on the waxed parquet
which irks me.”
“Irks?”they said
I said “Yes I feel irked sometimes,
because my espadrilles skid
on minced rectal tissue.”
“How are the kids?”
they said by way of passing time
“They’re fine…just fine
just fine…”

God what a niff!
They’ve been piling it on today.
Set off on my bike
with a nice Scotch Egg in a plastic bag…..
really looking forward to my roadside lunch,
ended up retching with chicken-shit ammonia
fizzing in my eyes,
strong slurry spreading its stain
splashing my clean white legs
and God knows what else
searing my lungs and
damaging healthy tissue.
Terra organica?
No I don’t bloody think so!

Still the goats have sleek brown coats
and there’s going be a fine succulent
Christmas crop of fresh globe artichokes

(and he said this sort of thing alot)
Theres a wonderful moist conductivity towards the centre
of a Scotch Egg