Some of that stuff dates back 20 years or more. Eg
In towers of our own design we plot the overthrow of tyrants. Delirious with conspiracy we pore over the plans of the palace.
We drink coffee and talk fervently until the early hours of the morning. I walk home as the sun is rising, through fields damp with dew.
‘it is my job to empty the king’s chamberpot’ he announced with pride. we shall torture him.
apostates grow thin and desperate outside the city gates. a necklace of larks tongues. the sound of statues being dismantled. the reckless joy of destroying our own history.
owls with startled eyes look down on motorways from power cables.
bullish seagulls. small birds gobbling crumbs on cafe tables. enormous kitchens in which thousands of uniformed chefs prepare whole herds of livestock in ovens as hot as furnaces.
gorse bush. yellow berries. horse bush. yellow berries.
manufacturing sonnets. new emancipations. insurrection burns in our hearts.
the cracks widen into fissures. institutionalised and bedridden.
COMBAT! zealots with fierce bayonets. ADVANCE!
reserved potters sit reading the paper next to the hot kilns. anarchists upsetting cups of tea and shouting defiant slogans in Percy Ingle.
crocuses. foxgloves. Formica.
solemn busts of Roman emperors. wheezing church organs. cobblers. tailors. locksmiths. clockmakers.
‘they move like a black tide inexorable and slow. we will have to cross the mountains, we have no other choice.’
‘pumpernickel, Charles’ he snorted derisively .‘in fact once we have found the right combinations, there is no code we cannot crack.’
‘com-bo-nay-shuns.’ he emphasised each syllable and then licked his moustache with a wiry tongue.
this is the future. we will rearrange reality according to a strict and rational set of rules. Jerusalem!
Or
Castor oil. traumatised war-veterans join the priesthood and spend their days counting rosary beads. cardboard dating. the opera singer is fawned over by her bespectacled suitors.
‘My names NOT Carmen you imbeciles.’ somnolent idols. sequestered bowers.
and all the haystacks burnt like beacons the day that farmer died.
Odysseus’s nursemaid. Brown light. Cardboard dating. Bolshie magpies.
The billionaire’s aviary. Parrots from Sumatra and the Amazon. Toucans and puffins.
wood pigeons clatter through the sycamores. seething desert. uproarious.
a troop of baboons drink noisily till dawn and fall asleep drunk in the gutters. One of the larger males flaps around with his long arms, trying to shoo away the sun.
Prince Charles does a hilarious turn on the Jew’s harp. You should hear him do ‘God Save the Queen.’ Ha, that kills me every time.
Or
In all honesty I am not even half as clever as I pretend to be. but I do know a secret. shall I share it with you?
playful elephants blow river water from wrinkled trunks.
the house is full of heirlooms, there is no more room for our own possessions.
all you have to do is ask.
salt on the tongue. people are frightening. they don’t seem real.
could this all be an elaborate hoax? sugar on the tongue.
now that’s quite interesting isn’t it?
salt on the tongue.
sugar on the tongue.
does that help you? Personally I find that quite magical. I mean, it really works!
now, you see, there’s no limit to the possibilities. this is a very precise, calculated form of magic.
super slide. fun for all ages. presidential suite. queens arcade. merry-go-round. office sweep stake, c’mon, don’t be a spoil sport. hula hoops. concrete turbines. there’s no limit to what you can buy.
Or
HERONBONE
Infernal. the grey sea, as smooth as seal flesh.
slippery. deceptive. sea of stone
the motorway. the pilgrimage. exhaust fumes. the trembling vales.
belligerent gulls fight over crusts of rye-bread.
conflict. domination. submission.
limpid. lonely. liquid.
formless. cuttlefish. compost heap.
the fantails. the winding stream. the steep banks where the rats nest.
desolate. ingest. in jest. inject. the cells shudder in anger.
the centre lost. brain crushed by skull. the ches