No1. – the spinning flat rose gives birth
Your mouth is full of repeated language
If you touch it it is a yellow one – its loops to the side three.
If it is more off a square.
A babbling
The loop is eating a big pink flower that is made fast by a hundred stitches
A spinning flat rose is giving birth.
In the top corner is a circle of magic blue containing a code
The rose is hiding on the grey wall.
There is wreath of flowers that broke away, chattering, a small line of yellow and one of ombre reddened.
And all is edged in flowers and pale ice blue satin that is cheap and folded in and over and under and stitched down so none of it -all- escapes of the curse.
No2. flowers are everywhere and nowhere
If you look-see there is a big big pink flat flower lie-ing itself on a flatness that is grey grey grey as cloth for cheese…gasping.
The petal-pink flower is turned away from a laugh and tough tall wall built of bricks of dark red shinesatin with blue butterflies and desiccated lounge flowers
these reach tall over it, like I said and float about half the way and under specially the butterflies that cover a stickiness and more more flowers that are not so small and they float on blue and they are the silky ones
And buttonhole flowers slither and zizzle up close … together. Like a singing.
And part of the square is broken and falls down even though it is grey framed and held tight within – its broken-ing out this one this frames on the move.
Smelling like sulphur the big yellow box is sliding down the wall squar-er-ed.
Off a loopy loop of sheer with knots as buttons spin-in between turmeric and dull dull … green-er-ing.
There is grey-like a rainy day.
This squares to (too) regular it needs tonguing out, petal-ling over
In sounding, flowers are everywhere and nowhere
Lots of tiny stitches hiss their own way
Theirs is furrow and feather
There is too square. It echoes.
No4. She wore a blue coat with flowers on the inside
Your mouth is full of chatter.
Smalling this one, is made like bleached cream chaassen-ed cheese, mild but with
3 hexagons and one circle lie’n in wait
patient
the long line is bein in the middle – again
Oh laugh out loud
Look its diving something again … but its only a pleat
there is blue above and flowers everywhere and stitches all around squirming inside the edges that have a wriggle-dy coy to square but not’n …
no not’n two knot.
on the back are 51.
No5. small puffs of happiness flowering like a stammer
small puff of happiness flowering’d
on the right day t’was Monday
it was grey. They called up.
can’t you keep the door closed Clarissa?
open it with your hook …
this is a failure too
its bluebells knotted its not
can I?
can I?
can I?
its all undo undone-ing. I swear.
No6. they went round and round
the world is round said Gertrude
no-one listens in a book about the world
Willy and Rose and Henry and tigers and everybody
still she climbed on and on … she was a gasp
Hey blue grey eyes round and round
the go round here is pretty flat
flattered like might
mountains blow apart
the seas go grey
and the skies of the round round are full of putrid smoke
Mary come here, sit in my lap. Sing.
No7. if you look see
If you look see me
the three hexagons chime and mumble
there is a speech bubble of please in the garden
Its breaking up Florence was her name … she held the seeds in her apron pockets
all of them
there is a little blue sky but it is falling
though it is full of the perfume of her knees
were there forget me nots?
shut the door, Tuesday. Humming.
from Conversational Poetry- majena mafe