Palisade Winters (extracts)

Night. Pulverised car.  A vast fugacious galley.  Remote epoch travel to this place.  Shallowherb.  Billowherb.  Moraine bubbles stiffen.  I shoal algal till.

The Colonel gazes at the vista of twisting sheets marginal lakes karstic fissures locality bones mammal rivers and railway lines.  Pitheads marked by huge wheels of alluvium.  Coniferous palm-like islands of winding gear.

Coral alpine drifting.  A very loamy peneplain hinterland.  Dashing riverish.  I  clutch  the  drowsy  hum  of  thistles.

Turning up the collar on his vitrain porosity, the Colonel strides back to the car.  His voice melts away.  Bubbles stiffen viscous mist.  Crush solvent into the babble of sounds.

Emerges into evening light,

rubs eyes, spits,

brings fag to lips.

Hyena squawks,

hugging Stella box,

bouncing off grannies.

Well, I can stack shelves. No I

agree mind. Like I said to her I

said. Look I said I love these

boots right. What is it now

March? Just the fucking.

Red Reebok fleece woman

walks sausage dog, waves

to passing ambulance,

ASDA carrier bunched in fist.

Clop of heels, rustle of bags,

jackdaw chirp-quack,

cyclist cranking pedals,

bleep of ATM pelican crossing,

woman screeching, Oiiiiii.

I tread the green tarmac bay

up the yellow letters





He studies the windswept summits ribboned with sprawling sands of moraine drift.  Microgranite belts.  Postglacial till and solar pastures.  Woolly puddles of slag.

Your men will be more than welcome to use the larger climate  lagoons oolite shoals algal tufts faulted calcium millstone system.  Easy walking distance of the pyrite dust portions.

Any loamy sound, even my own voice, is preferable to a silence peninsula.  A geological moment, a single time-plane on the road that winds the hilltop over the coalfield.

The Colonel squirms under the foot of twisting vegetation.  The Corporal turns the military staff car in rhythmic cycles.  Blattoid in front of the Cottage Hospital.  Stop the car.

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