David I’m Only, by Steven Waling

the curly mind linguistically innovative poetry - weird & risky

dancing you dancing?     horror flicks
waltz through out childhood     learning
to feel the fear     chance
a for instance     do it
David     I’m wearing all my

masks again     in clown make-up
looking like a lyric eye
in a maxi dress     dancing
with my dodgy knee     throbs
in the harsh Berlin night

by the Brandenburg Gate     kissing
the Western Canon disintegrates into
constituent parts     you little heathen
you     the night’s still I
stars in its own galaxy

shining bright     Big Momma Thornton’s
special toffee     boys keep singing
we learn so much from
television     Omnibus bottle floating in
the dark sea     later I

strung out in heathen heat
change into the lounge suit
on Cosy Avenue     the temperature’s
always corporate     turn to face
the word     come out of

your dens woodland denizens     but
it’s snowing in white space
and David     today I’m tearing
that little black number     in
memory of my rebels     crows

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