(after The Oxford Happiness Questionnaire)

We had better empty the wine-cups.
To-morrow, at bright dawn, the world’s business will entangle us.
We brush away our tears,
We go – East and West.
                                                          – Tu Fu

gurgle /ˈɡəːɡ(ə)l
grandmothers carry prams to term / babysit baby’s baby / regurgitated capsule
commuters exhale daily day into night aircon carriage
doors closing please stand
waits for no ma

ri:fle slickstream
fillet knife separates the hairyskin
something seeps almost-clear

financial
review
predict the price drop of value
cue funny anecdote of destitution

                                                                                                    fi
                                                                                                    re

I rarely wake up feeling rested
☒ strongly agree

what future has not yet
yet what are we working for?
poisonwater?
virtualpunching?
(who could type ‘I will rape you with a metal pole’?)
no one can afford to breathe

committed is as committed does
google ‘how to section my mother’
do that and see how it feels

                                                                                                    fi
                                                                                                    re

a person is on fire / a building explodes
a leg blown off
a cheek shattered
a superbug eats a brain / a cancer eats a liver
these things really happened

a man can lose his life for dressing as a woman
(person)                                                                  (person)
I think an x clothed as x can be anyone x wants
we are all ex-something
ex-womb at least

hear that gradual shift
a slight fingernaildrag on a fender

well well well well well
it is hard to know how to help
but I hope they know it weighs heavy
I carry them like a shotput / which is to say I don’t do much

othr thn tht lol
srsly
so much funny stuff

they would have you believe
you can control the darkness
sign up now for 24-hour assistance
get ready for a m^onth of sh^ooting stars

                                                                                                     fi
                                                                                                     re

a melted slipper in a bonfire
pain feels right like slipping a socked foot through the radiator till it scorches
you pull out then do it all over / sex fuse

even though I have no grand illusions
I still like Miranda July to read me my horoscope
maybe my grand illusion is my lack of one

Schiaparelli and Comme des Garçons walk into a Leigh Bowery
yes, I would try and make it

the headstrong focus the overhead pan
David Byrne starts kinking his knee

did I tell you how crazy I feel when Born Under Punches plays?
I try not to let it show but
my throat could open my body flail
in Kinsella’s moth-green eyeshadow
and convulsing chest
I wonder what we are capable of on the panopticon patio

computer worms mediate morality
how many lips are being licked *right now*

synapse neuron snap
no fuselage just balance beam creaking
no influence, even in my own dreams

well well well well well
to good friends and good health
to the tough times behind us
what good will that do us?

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can’t wait to see what’s next

Pascalle Burton