And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground
(because the LG could see there was plenty around;
exactly what tools He used the bible doesn’t say
but I suppose He was just naturally good with clay)

anyway

He breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul
wasting no time at all
taking his toll
on all the other creatures
and complex eco-systemic features
spooling out behind him on the evolutionary scroll

thanks be to God

but hey

all this is a long-winded way to say
that out and about today
with Lola the dog
I came across a rotten log
that looked a bit like an apocalyptic serpent
about to swallow God’s starry firmament
(or would do if my f-stop was properly determinant )
and I thought – if I propped a little man up in the foreground, with a stick
it might give the picture an emotional kick
you know – a piquant focus –
poetic hocus pocus
like foregrounding a monstrous bulldozer with a crocus
so I looked around for something to use
(exactly like God, but in cagoule and shoes)
instead of the dust of the ground
all I found
was an old cow pat
enticingly dry and flat
so I thought I’d cut a man out of that
but the pat was too crumbly
my hands too cold & my fingers fumbly
and then the penknife
jackknifed, the blade snapped shut
and suddenly there was blood
dripping on the pat man and the mud
and I yelped, and dropped the knife,
and cursed this foolish, photographic life
wrapping a tissue round my thumb
swearing at the clumsy fucker I’d become
but wondering if the blood would animate
this hokey man of shit I’d tried to create
but no – he didn’t move a fibre
didn’t jump up, wave, run off or whatever
he just lay there looking like a sorry piece of crap
not at all the cute figure I needed for the snap
(and by the way, can I say right here?
the Lord God had the right idea
avoiding any similar conclusion
choosing breath of life over blood transfusion)

so I left my primitive pat man unpapped on the log
and staggered home howling after the dog
my attempt at creation a complete disaster
fuck that shit – all I need is a plaster

ladies & gentlemen / if I could have your attention / first of all, apologies for the heavy security regimen / but as you can see we’re a pretty serious bunch / and anyway, I’ve got what you might call a hunch / that when it comes to the crunch / you’d rather not end up some other fucker’s lunch / so – hands inside the car at all times please / whilst I run you out to the compound beyond the trees / the first stop on our little tour today / so when y’all ready back there? well, then – okay!

the park was opened two thousand and sixty / the world’s first megafauna facility / comprising five artificial islands of stunning complexity / viable biodomes of staggering convexity / where DNA diversity / is pursued with seismic scientific activity / and detailed dexterity / facilitating  productivity / resistance to adversity / and of course the biggest prize / sheer motherfucking SIZE! / I know, I know – that’s a lot to swallow / are y’all managing to follow? / good / I thought you would / now – if you just shield your eyes from the glare / there! that’s BD 1 / that’s where all the fun / begun / back when we started having all that trouble with the sun / and it looked like the human race was – well – run / but I don’t need to tell you good folks that / I’m sure y’all got the t-shirt ‘n the lead-lined hat …

[radio suddenly squawking / someone frantically talking]
what the fuck?
[he stops the truck]

just a minute folks / whyn’cha pass round the smokes / whilst I talk to my ol’ pal Pablo / used to ride in the rodeo / y’know / but the silly ol’ so-and-so / he gets a bit twitchy / jes ‘cos the electric fence can be glitchy / so please excuse me, woncha? / we’ll soon be back on our wild adventure

Hey there, Pablo? / Wha’d’ya know? / Como estas? / Quiero respuestas no preguntas! / Okay. Uh-hum. I see. No shit! / Call out the choppers and we’ll make a run for it….

Ladies and Gentlemen! / can I have your attention again? / Could I ask y’all to buckle up / while I jes’ swing around and head back to the lockup / please ignore / the roaring / and the meaty rumble up through the flooring / it’s nothing to worry about / jes’ a few of the stock got out / but you’re perfectly safe in this lil’ ol’ car / and remember, objects in the mirror look closer than they are

not alive, you said
but then – not exactly dead
& once they’ve duped those host receptors
to replicate their DNA vectors
they’ll ride you like a pony in a penny arcade
till you’re busted, broke and laid away
so – to me – I have to say with some insistence
that qualifies for some kinda existence
*sneeze*
and another thing
just because I don’t got wings
don’t mean I can’t fly
the trick is knowing when to specialise
*sneeze*
listen! a virus can drift through space
settle in some godforsaken place
wait for you to land and step out the rocket
take your hands from out your pocket
pull up your visor and sniff the air
and bang – they’ll get right up in there
and the next thing you know you’re back on the station
blabbering on in isolation
*sneeze*
true story
*sneeze*
so I’m sorry, people, but I have to disagree
viruses are very much alive it seems to me
and just because they don’t got no evolutionary fuss
hell – all it means is they’re cleverer than us

what can I say? / I was feeling pretty much okay / when I wandered into Superdrug that day

and then – wow! / holy kapow!
(you’ve probably seen the news & know what happened by now)

I was dazzled by the rows of cosmetics / the hard white lights & glossy aesthetics / Maybe It’s Maybelline. Maybe not. / Imagine the Impossible – okay – then what? / Between Love and Madness lies Obsession / so many questions / subtle corrections / airbrushed imperfections / all those magical bottles / jostling / accosting me / Beautiful. Colourful. You. / who? / me? / yes – don’t you see? / Share the Fantasy / Sparkle on the Inside and Out

suddenly I knew what the trip was about

I started to gulp the perfumes down / shop assistants screaming & running around / as I worked my way steadily / greedily / concession to concession / without hesitation / Boss & Cerruti / Lacoste & Givenchy / give it to me! / and the very moment a bottle was done / I tossed it behind me and carried on / two whole bottles of Chanel no.5 / I never felt so alive! / Blossom by Jimmy Choo / an atomiser of Gucci Bamboo / Good Girl by Carolina Herrera / Issey Miyake, L’Eau d’Issey Pure Nectar / nothing was spared as I worked the row / hastily swallowed / followed / by an over-the-shoulder throw / a succession of shattering breaks /  scattering glass like tiny diamonds in my wake

and gradually I felt myself changing / stranging / dna rearranging / my eyes compounding / expanding / popping out / my tongue extending and whipping about / two diaphanous wings unfurling / extra pairs of legs uncurling / dangling from my shiny thorax / as I rose in a swirling vortex / and powered into the fragrant air / scattering bottles everywhere / skimming the shelves and heading out the shop / where armed police were screeching to a stop / (one jumped out & took a speculative shot / with her glock / but the bullet only nicked my hock / and ricocheted into the high street clock)

At first I flew low / waving to the crowds below / the lunchtime traffic swerving & cursing / desperately reversing / as they all got out to watch me go / holding up phones so their friends would know / and on I flew / higher & higher into the blue / exhilarated but terrified, true / because honestly what’s a man to do / who changed so much and so quickly too

I headed for the countryside / where a fabulous outlaw butterfly might hide / and after searching relentlessly / settled for an abandoned observatory / a quiet place I might / discretely & sweetly access and alight / through the hatch where the telescope poked out at night / and I soon settled into my beautiful home / my doorless, floorless, chitinous dome / and I have to say / I’ve been doing okay / & it certainly helps I’ve found  more like me / living marvelously / carelessly / insectivorously / out here on the periphery / c’mon! you know I’m not the only bug / who metamorphosed in Superdrug

FAILURE knows all my faults / the darkest secrets in the deepest vaults / he knows all the tricks & combinations / the dust-covered abominations / Raspail in the Lincoln / what was I thinkin? / he was always hot shit with a puzzle / he’s the plump black nose on the bloodhound’s muzzle / when it comes to trickery he’s positively devout / he’ll always and I mean ALWAYS sniff this shit out / the tripwire primed with the manuscript trug / the pit of sharpened pencils under the tiger rug  / all the things I set around the house / the study, the garden & thereabouts / like a giant game of Mousetrap with me as the mouse / and FAILURE poised with his hand on the lever / as personally attentive as dengue fever

FAILURE looks a little like me / if you shuffled things round externally / hyde with a runny nose and sore throat / kicking through the lab trash for the antidote

FAILURE is access ALL my areas / he’s freakin’ hilarious / he’ll show me a view with nothing to oppose it / wait till I’ve definitely chose it / hide behind the door and then close it / man – he’s got great timing and he knows it

FAILURE knows I’ve been working on techniques / to shut him down as soon as he speaks / block him when he tweets / draw the curtain when he stands out in the street / whistling for attention / shouting words too horrible to mention / but he’s just so goddamned insistent / creatively persistent / mindfulness resistant / and when finally I give up on the book / slam the laptop and stop to look / as I frequently do / and confront him with the endless cruelties he’s putting me through / shoot / he turns mute / impossibly cute / dances like a sideshow freak / & suddenly he’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all week / twerkin / his merkin / it’s disgustin / but then – I don’t know / maybe it’s the sort of thing I should do / if I wasn’t so hung up on ideas of SUCCESS / any kind of attention on the radio or the press / so FAILURE – I’m through / we who are about to (write something) dire – salute you! / okay? c’est tout, that’s it / now piss off and let me get on with this shit

 

about this time in December / as far back as I can remember / the Wholly Dubious Beast comes looking for me / (quite why is a mystery) / it’s difficult to describe the WDB / & maybe / the best I can do / is just tell it to you / roughly how it appears to me / and see / how far it gets you / & if it’s too awful and upsets you / I apologise / but if only you could see it through my eyes / maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible / and make my trauma a little more bearable

who the hell knows
so anyway, here goes

on first sighting

jesus – it’s ghastly / my pulse rate increases vastly / like I’ve run downstairs to answer the door / and reached the floor / two steps earlier than anticipated / I’m devastated / jarred & scarred / scared, totally unprepared / I’m in bits & tatters / in all the places it really matters / I’m wound up / beaten out & bound up / I’m cast down / sobbing like a superannuated clown / honestly – the shock is inconceivable / totally unbelievable

on the sound it makes

if anything, its roar is even more disconcerting / the very essence of hurting / a discordant chorus of yells and shrieks / cries and freakish mutterings / explosive splutterings / sundry spillings / the drillings of a hundred fillings / mixed with the kind of howls / that wake you up in the bowels / of the night / and you lie on your back rigid with fright / stock still, perfectly flat / wondering what the fuck makes a noise like that / and very slowly you turn on the light / and you lay there shivering the rest of the night

the body of the thing

good grief / it’s beyond belief / breaking all laws of physics / with its transmutational sleights & tricks / being both small / and tall / at the same time / a constantly changing bodyline / mega-round, super-thin / everything out, everything in / like falling into a hall of mirrors / the closer you get the weirder it is / resulting in existential panic and anxiety / vows of sobriety / and a nausea / that floors ya / a squeamishness / whose extremishness / can only be allayed / by jumping up quick and running away

what it smells like

its breath / is instant death / it’s like a bored and sloppy chef / said fuck it / threw some kitchen scraps in a bucket / marinaded them in slime / threw in a handful of thyme / zest of rat / soupcon of shit and rancid cat / left it to stand outside in the sun / then served it on toast with parmesan

those claws

those claws are horrendous / mightily momentous / big as harps / shiny & sharp / gruesomely aggressive / rapaciously recessive / crueller than an accountant’s audit / when he rakes through the books, smiles & takes all of it / every last cent / back in tax for the government / leaving just a scattering of torn receipts / and a customer satisfaction survey to complete

and then the eyes

the eyes, quite frankly, are the worst / opening like a volcano burst / showering you in molten disdain / & caustic, incendiary rain / a pyroclastic vent / of fiery contempt / that turns you instantly to stone / the second you reach for your phone / petrifying your posture / so that years in the future / when they trowel you up with the dogs and the horses / and stand you in an exhibition of stony corpses / all the kids’ll line-up in that solemn hall / and make jokes about who you were were trying to call

but then again

so that’s the Wholly Dubious Beast / or how it appears to me at least / and I’ll admit / even though I’m still afraid of it / there’s a part of me that kinda likes it as well / its sensitive pads & extraordinary smells / I like the offhand way it trawls down halls / dragging pictures off the walls / trailing its nails down the curtain rails / burning seventeen kinds of ruin / into whatever project I happen to be doing / rousting all my habits from their shells / stamping on the shells as well / & I like the way it stalks my dreams / with its suffering squint and measured screams / & there’s an elegance about its ugliness / a sadness / whose origins I still don’t get / and yet / when it reaches out to grasp my wrist / to drag me down to the things I’ve missed / despite myself I plant my feet & resist / and though its scaly tail snaps / still I can’t relax / and let go / and what d’you know / that’s it / shit / once again I’m standing here / with December dying on the threshold of the year / and the WDB crying and shoving me clear / and trailing away into the ground / and me calling out as it spirals down / I love you, WDB! It’s true! / come back next December and I’ll see what I can do

I’m so gorgeous
a band of candy-scented unicorns
canter over with heart-shaped stickers on their horns
sweet thing / love bug / be mine
(it’s fine
they do it all the time)
I’m so gorgeous
the gauzy ghost of Rudolph Valentino vapes into shot
asks me what my secret is and for any advice I’ve got
I put my arm into the air where his shoulders should be
and share my regime confidentially
I’m so gorgeous
invertebrates prate
reptiles unravel
amphibians create
mammals babble
I’m so gorgeous
the very stars in heaven, singing in their crystalline spheres of ice
break free their shackles & hurl themselves in flaming legions at my feet (which is nice)
I’m so gorgeous
Helen of Troy
lazing on a bouffant borzoi
reading about me in Tatlers
coquettishly sucking her pearly rattlers
suddenly jumps off her ‘aris
flips her ol’ man paris
a richly be-ringed bird
rushes outside without another word
leaps on her chariot
texts me to meet her in some seedy Marriott
(she’s okay, Helen, despite the hype
but not really what you’d call my type)
I’m so gorgeous
the Egyptian god Horus
leads an apocalyptic chorus
scorches the sky with a terrifying sound
tearing the sea, ripping the burned ground
commanding all existence to do as I bid
& asks where I’d like my pyramid
(I thank him for the fealty
graciously decline the realty)
I’m so gorgeous
I spend many happy hours in the contemplation
of the perfection of my own reflection
although – at the risk of sounding vain –
this whole gorgeousness thing can be a pain
and I think to myself, God, what I wouldn’t give
for the life the rest of you losers live