4 Monk Discussion

Stringyleg pimp retired to the green

country corn air.

She gives last paycheque rolling

uphill booring the knolls

of burdenmoney past to her

for time the tears of grey gave up

now a smile a new front

a new him raw hate

musculas in forms to clear

good leg weather for killing

little taily mus or muzzle

fimble sun face forward

she gleets for the gone

the true glue ugly hopeful

rain breaks down in groups

ontopa the church

He him and her creeps in

greeted lonely robes

ancient paintmust shadow candle wax

he asks

"In the war of plastic shovels, have you earned your soul?"

She steps out licks rollysmoke open

him laughanswers

"There's nothing to earn but the world."

monk shock deliberate self sufficient

cue quick wise eye reply

but him left already

and she winks at a picture

you know the one

jesus knees prettypink lipped

for someone, you know it

the only one that matters.

◄ 3 Prosthetic Leg Montage

5 Blue Mule ►


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Laura Taylor

Tue 28th Feb 2012 12:58

I might have said this before, but your recent writing reminds me of James Joyce (specifically Finnegans Wake), and Samuel Beckett (you must have read Ping? - if you haven't, you should, it's fucking brilliant).

With Finnegans Wake, I found that I understood it by just letting the sonics wash over me, and this writing seems to work the same way - really well done!

The experiments as a whole are hugely inspirational Kealan. It's partly because of you doing this that I decided to try and change my own writing, to see what else I could do, instead of just waiting for it to happen, so thanks man :)

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