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Narcosia 3                                                                                                          for David Scurr

There is madness in method – horizon eyes –

No beauty under the sword.

Horizon eyes gaze

horizon eyes glazed

Upper ground on the underground – take the

cliche cliche cliche

morality plays- the concious says – say

nothing, something – point of view.

Is there method to this madness?

Hollow laughter from mary of the fourth floor.

Jeers, indignation. Echos of an obcessive affair

with the insane.

This ancient epic. Examined- re-examinned, upturned and

reburried.

Nothing to see here.

Exploit the underground – rewrote the manifesto

upturned on a coffee stained napkin- formulate a new vision of

the body poetics, to make sence of the non-sense.

Sieze the sorrow filled eyes of Jack

to make a point

in time.

The view is obvious

in obliteration.

The risk ran.

Ruined by the long running interview.

Stand-up.

Embrace the smoke swirling

around your sholders

Oppportunity – the difficulty of knowing

or not; of the ethereal poetics of heavenly scribs lost

in purgatorial bliss to a Parker riff.

The method of the madness

of night in bars, lofts, cafes.

Writing above the din. Above the hollow shrieks and laughter

of the great mass’ gathered after service .

Worship the god of choice.

Word sketchs – of coffee –

sax and cigarettes.

Be bopping beats play

the meter – metronome click

Octogenarian Orpheaus. Laying

down lines of words ala coltrane run

-run-

run away from the cliche .

Or be run over .

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