Poem: The Flagellant of St. Mary


Coming out of the cold,
The cathedral swallows me,
Digested in its stone belly, malformed,
Another soul lost in masonry,
Another thread in the cosmic carpet,
Another crypt of passing years
Who momentarily walks

From another chapel,
Far away as The Southern Pole,
Voices are caught in webbed transepts,
As I am caught in yours

The whole day I’ve tormented myself,
Bearing guilt for whom I cannot reach,
Those bridges of glass,
Locked in frozen waves,
I am not the key,
Trapped in a man’s body,
No breasts, no blood,
No moon-rent thighs,
No softness to usher in
The tidings of a mother’s heart

For gendered thus,
An evil history is my inheritance,
My very form a symbol of rapacity,
Corruption and vile molestation

I can do nothing right in your eyes

But reaching out,
How fain would I warp this skin,
Invert my genitals,
Hollow myself a womb,
Just to release you from yourself,
Be parturient of your happiness

Skulking in graveyards,
Clothing myself in the skin of ancestors,
All their bodices, and muslins, and Catholic veils,
The Priestess hiding in the gloaming

Can’t you see what lies it all is?
Behind this masque of body,
The Venetian rites of tubercular quarry,
Peel away presence, the whole cosmos
Is the mist of my luminous ashes,
My passion is the sun,
My coolness the moon,
Their union the love I give you

But man-bound, all is odium,
Emasculated by being a man,
I am a half-way thing,
Neither here nor there,
There is no vacancy, no hollow,
In which my love is welcome,
A holy well nobody seeks,
A pilgrimage nobody walks

Behind the silence of my mind,
The Soul is the one that talks

I must cohabit with dualities,
Trade in falsehoods,
And gendered neuroses,
Evermore my own flagellant,
My vicious atoner,
In the Chapel of The Mother of God

If I cannot be the Virgin Mary,
Wombless, I wander in Nod

Poem: In The Midst


In the midst of Death, we are in Life,
Where green hollows give riot to full-flower thoughts,
To the mocking of yaffle and titian speedwell,
Benches so little sat on, grasses grow between their ribs,
Reclaiming to ruin, ivy-bound

The beauty of tombs almost justifies the killing,
Lichen UFOing in annular growth,
The space between songs
Are the lips of the bell,
Kissing your hours into subsistence

Fed on the flesh of sundial birdsong,
When shadows are secondary
To the sovereignty of light,
Corpses exploding into bluebells,
Fully-clappered, with the eternal pulsation
Of several Spring seconds

All is complete in the green of young leaf,
Pointing to where eternity beckons


Poem: The Anchorite

Sunset amid Dark Clouds over the Sea circa 1845 by Joseph Mallord William Turner 1775-1851

At the bottom of the crystal ocean
Lie great clusters of coracles,
All accreted together like so many fossils

Many anchorites have tried to reach this island,
Many more have failed – gobbled up by the hunger
Of the sea, reborn in the half world of The Tuatha De Danan,
Meditating on the glories of God in waters dark and unseen,
Their skins grizzling into carapaces of seal fur:
The bone-made carpets of the deep

Looking out from your stone-built hut,
God gives you layers of Celtic mist,
And you are crucified by the nails of ambiguity
That describe the landscape where you sit:
The Throne of The Holy Fool

Slowly, over time, rock, lichen and moss
Become your skin – your thoughts become
The spindrift of unquantifiable seconds –
Of unquantifiable questions –
And the crashing of the waves sounds like
The creaking of so many turned Bible pages,
Vellum sanctified into wave-worn silence

Baptized in the lonely font of the ocean,
You can see the face of Christ in the face
Of every seal, in the squabblings of kittiwakes,
In the unheard music of coral, and the contorted
Countenance of storms

But, should you achieve your wish,
And live eternal in Christ
To have him live eternal in you,
Then you will watch thousand-year-old
Oaks rise and fall with the passing of seconds,
Forests laid to wastes, and wastes regrown,
Cities to deserts, and deserts to springs,
To the steady thunder of civilizations crushing out
Their own matchsticks, and all the gold found on earth
Ascending to heaven, returning to the fiery
Centre of the Sun from which is was milked

But, until then, let each of the waves be the dial-hands
Of moments killing moments, one moment killing the
Moment that preceded it, only to be slaughtered by its
Ungrateful descendant, muttering:

“Holy is Christ,
Holy is Christ,”

Until you know every cave of the sea

Poem: As You Like It


Sleeping drunk under a bridge

The night sands caressing my face

The disco dancers are still about

Roaring against rhythms that should destroy them

But only give them more power

I watched the seagulls circumambulate the sun

In a disorderly procession

Against which their shrieks were rung

This is not a lyric ballad

But the last desperate jottings

Of a lovelorn tramp

Catapulting himself over furniture

In riverside taverns

Like a peacock of the night

I glitter and gleer

Unleashing my tail feathers

Faces all around detonate with delight

Every dartboard becomes a kaleidoscope

And the jukebox a sacred transmitter

Through which the Words of God are heard

But God is a cross-dresser

Like a Shakespearian heroine

She disguises herself as a handsome boy

But is happy to get her tits out

If she thinks it’ll do her any favours

“I’ll give you Ten Commandments

If you’ll give me ten lashings on the bum!”

She proposes, with a lurid wink

But, of course, she’s just as drunk as I am

How else could she have made me

Without falling into my fermented pisspot?

Or pulling up the wine of truth

From a fountain so deep?

Ah, Rosalind, you saucy Pagan romancer!

Won’t you banish yourself from your court

To get lost in my ghastly wood?

It would be awfully good if you would!

I’ll twinkle gently as the spaceship lands

For I’m going home tomorrow

To find the barroom in the stars


Poem: To Worship


What does it mean

“To worship”?

To worship something

Is to appreciate it so intensely

That the electricity of your enjoyment

Inseminates everything you are

Creating constant friction

Which creates more electricity

Until all that you worship

Is you

You cannot worship something

By placing it on a pedestal

Unless you grind your cunt

Against that pedestal

Until your mon veneris bleeds

With affection

Don’t worship from afar

But with terrifying closeness

Like a man on an electric fence

Writing odes to his own electrocution

To worship

Is to be alive

Nothing more

Nothing less

So worship every moment

You can start by taking off your dress


Poem: Tapster’s Song to Vajrayogini


Oh, my magnificent Vajrayogini!

Thank you for treating me roughly

You have trained me to build the cathedral of flame

And to pinion myself on its lonesome spires

You make love to me

Both violently and gently

Eroticizing the flaming canals of my body

Until my flesh sears with unbearable delight

You whisper sacred teachings to me

That sound like dirty words

Thus the mantra of “FUCK FUCK FUCK”

Must always be proclaimed

But most of all

You have rebirthed me

As love and lust incarnate

To treat my body as a flaming palace

That must be available to all

Who amongst you will walk my hallowed halls?

To seek out the secret entrance

To my pentagrammatical pelvis?

Or find the tetragrammaton

In my twinkling eyes?

To find the ten-syllable mantra

Wreathed around my scrotum?

Or the imperishable words of saints

Writ on the crystal betwixt my thighs?

Burning phallus!

Burning phallus, thou!

Kidneys, Sacrum,

Skull and monk!

Indestructible Maiden arise

Let’s both get drunk!



Poem: Ejaculations Against Stained Glass


I went into a local church

To admire the stained glass windows

Stalking down its time-tossed corridors

To bathe in the fullness

Of its raw vivid light

But my appreciation was annihilated

When I noticed the fig leaf

Covering Adam’s genitals

As though he had been castrated

By a roving maniacal tree

Determined to leave a memento of his crime

For this aboreally-assaulted amputee

I could not prevent my tongue from shrieking:


Whereon I streamed out of the church

And tore off my clothes

I was naked

And extremely proud

A Reuben as though painted by Reubens

“The body is to be delighted and cherished!”

I cried,

“As the expression of every human’s  natural divinity!”

Then I grabbed the first goddess I could find

(I did not have to search long;

There was already one

Crawling up my leg

With the enlightenment of lust in her eyes)

Then I coupled with her

For many eternities

Ejaculating into the shameful face of celibacy

Until he took off his mask

Gleamed a spermy smile

And joined us for an orgy

All because

One silly man

Couldn’t come face to face

With his balls



Poem: To Be a God


To be a god

Is to permit the impermissible

To repress the irrepressible

To accept the unacceptable

To the love the unlovable

And to reconcile the irreconcilable

To be rapturously intimate

Yet unbearably neutral

To know all the answers

Yet ask all the wrong questions

To experience being absolutely everything

Whilst being fundamentally unaware of it

To be a god

Is to be more or less the same

As everything else

No different

From you or I

Or the fly that nourishes itself

On your dog’s excrement

Say hello to the fly

Say hello to yourself

Say hello to God



POEM: Eternal Tongue


Gods do not speak in words;

They speak in the strangest dreams

Their tongues paint pictures

That soon form into worlds

The newspaper men

Jump out of the wall

How can you say

“Your days are numbered”

When your life is truly innumerable?

Keep coming back to me

Again, my friend

Until we both dissolve

In the ocean

Of extinction

Poem: Unsatisfying Dialogues


I hate to be estranged from you
To be treated as a stranger
With defensive formality
When we should be cleaving to one another
Wearing masks and armor
We issue lies to one another
Through carefully hewn slits
We might as well
Drag our lawyers into the situation
So that they can do the lying for us
When did we become so false?
But I am still naked underneath
And I want you to take off
The fearful garb that is oppressing you
So that we can invest in light once again.