Under remote control
The quivering train trecks of Westfalia
Are kept secluded
Long empty heaving writhing in
Gross indecency
Less amusing
Than if puppeteered in person

Indeed,
Find me
In the clocktower
Beside the rooftops of Sally Houses
And over the Pinkerton streets
Come find me won’t you,
Fishing for treats
It is a warm day to wear black feathers as
The rook of the raven’s nest
Who mocks the gibbet
Who takes up commanding esoterica
Who bandages unbroken kitchen drawer things
And stuffs them into guttering
Assuming gestures are followed correctly
Me
If the weather is good
And even the RSPB don’t know about it
Though they pursue me

Our grapefruits are ready

Damned if the bell doesn’t startle me still

I will bring forks when forks are needed
Even if I decide they would look nice
Forks to me will be special
Forks to me will hold a special place

Under remote control
I make an application
Under elastic arms