yellow planes through the meadow, flying low like killer wasps fighter jets World War kamikazes, bombing me as I run, dog along come toto!  Mysteries avast agape as we tip tinkle along quick fast hop skip.  chairs leg spiders tickle along lightly, sinister legs pattle on the window like rain drops, fat and pregnant sliding down my eyes unwet.

heather pumpkins exploded! wow! sky above raining nails is very uncomfortable, pin stick in minnesota minnesea riding the ocean wave, rolling, rolling ugh.  Pigeon violet sky and in my eyes a reflection of a pizza whole not piece, angled like the moon in a lake pond not a river, not a broken image, a complete one where turkey terry likes cheese and pomegranate spread, firmly, gritty bits on white bread all in one, gulp.  gulped like a dog or more like a whale, a pigeon blue one, pouting up its water from in its spout hole - nose hole, back hole, mouth hole? cartoon whales are bored with the sea, but what would they do on land, that's the question? same colour as eeyore, interesting concept, why is pigeon sad? what colours are happy, elipses on a crossboard, i play darts.

ear wash lights on the rolling white road at night, the deer stalking eyes up the flash past of red car blackness. white water seafront eats your soul if you fish in a lake of sea fish catfish snakes, catfight with fingers and opposable toes all going to good use, when you are graham you can, but it is not what you might wish despite chinese crackers and sticky dough balls round your mouth all dirty rolling on the wooden floor, everything and everyone with the cat

wailing widows in mother teresa faces gurn and grimace in the hot night's sun, never ending heat burning the soles of the feet on the sticky hot tar pavements.  ink bleeds as do feet and birds when shot from the sky with a feather quilled arrow, pen, knife, bird all dead in one go what a nice guy.  twinkling onwards to a bitter end at the icecream van which sells happiness and ecstasy to its followers. lollies and class a drugs smiling, both make a smile

wooden sideboard rubbish pens a note of grievance to his tory MP - 'no thank you ma'am' and bins it in a sunshine waste bin full of thousands of words and tissues. canaries, yellow, leaping and thrushing and songing until their lungs give out and they sail like ships to the concrete floor hot in the summer sun incing like a spider around the room along the floor tiptoeing like a tiger on a pen nib tickle him under the chin down on the lane but he shan't be a monster just for you, nor the rainbow a colour fiend parrot

wham bam nonsensical absurdic ASBO writing in my head in rainbow letters squinting at the ceiling looking at spiders in the clouds.  What are terry and rudolph doing in the factory of squeams and squirts?  Eat up your cabbage before alan throws away the mess and goes to the garage forever with the canvas and oils and fumes of interrogation and whacks them all on a car bonnet wham bam

womb womb nothing but the room, blinking blue in a sigh of blooming and blossoming blood in water, like watercolour, bleeding in 3D across my palms and forehead.  Headache.  Quilted silence over the chilly stars watching ever watchful upon the ether creeping crawling and serenading you the cactus boy with no hope and no joy until each pops and burns and the silence makes you choke and contract and explode and burn inside,blood worms and squirms smiling cactus boy

in the deep locomotions of the machinery the heart boom booms to the open chasm dark and red and warm.  Inside all but outside its slimy self outhousing caribinas outside the roof, falling off the drainpipe from piccalilli to south carolina, oggling the duvets but they're too warm.  Green blankets praying mantis fades into and spikes you with her spiky hands of coffee and croissants and garlic, onions if you like, with the mice.  Black keys on the piano with ink spots and Wallace and me.

got me thinking of designing a higher power in the cherry trees, twinkling their morning dew like stars from the heavens, with no dark. White weddings all spring, showering confetti to the lifeless pavement where eyes snail trail the ick ick ick steps of tiny gravel spits.  Rolling like a turbine in the engine of the motor of the automatic whatnot who knows cars?  I hate cars. Give me a cat on a tricycle flying through the sweetcorn fields of yellow green yellow green house blankets of mouldy moths and inky insects shinkling in the new night sky sounding like an accordion.

stinky lions wriggle their fingernails fruitlessly as the monkeys jibber jabber clobber with their no shoe boots.  Up up the trees they tickle each other and grin the cartoon faces of impish children a bit evil but naughty and nice like a chinese sweet and sour chicken with those chickeny fat lumps coated in sticky red.  Ick ick is that the way hugh?  It is not the way hugh, the waterfall is to the right and you shall fall into that ravine if you will go through the dungeon and get lost the other side in the cul de sac bottomless dark pit.  It's green in there but you can't tell because it's black.  How can it be green and black? It can't and that's why the icicles sing in the dark of something and nothing and a blue that never was.

frenzied ecstasy blurs the lines of hallmark splendour in the dank dark light in a long marble hall, echoing with lemon scented emptiness.  The window creaks and an owl comes in from the light into the dark cool steps of marble. chinks and chanks litter nothing, empty and cold

20th march

Blasphemous pears eat in hole out hole up in the rafters of the sky, soaring with the bluebirds over the rainbow on a little lost girl.  Brown black ringlets tickle rosy cheeks and cactus blossom is alone as she is alone.  Drought and flood in the hot hot sun but never green apples and hugenots.  Why hugenots in the french revolution dancing on the heads of us all ripping out all our hairs and eyelashes with hobnail boots, clonking in a misery dance of dirge forever and forever.

weds, 16 march 11

sylvestrine monkey bird toots along to the highway drought, winding the dust around the foreleg of time tightly tightly until its so constricted and contrived and words are past the sense of meaning.  why rub it in when you can sit on the snow and watch coldly and methodically as cyril capers and snipes and bitches just to eat away your skull at the back of your head

rancid waterfalls glance off shined monsters, glimmering glittering in the darkness under the sun layer of true light.  Bite my neck then you aren't a hamper or a hamster but a vampire and no monster of the eel deep licking it's fingers covered in clams and cobblestones.  Itchy it may seem but what's an underwater itch if you're trisha?  A nothing, a somebody in my eye piercing in the red warm dark.

Monday 7th March

Whalebone shoe trees grown from concrete at no no pavements, lower than the world.  Eat your life and your cheese and biscuits and be done Sheila, nothing better will come of the koala fancies you are so averse to.  Rancid apples eat themselves as fetid fruit can do but Barry knows this, this is why I am annoyed

sunday, 6th march

Look here, board.  Sentimental weathers are nothing to a Shanghai breeze.  Fingers lick but no children dance.  Idiots walk the streets, blossoms in their hair.  Hairs, I should say.  Living tentacles of mankind reaching out and ensnaring.  Distasteful is what it's called.  Foreign junk over a sea of air petroleum.  Ring the changes and see how you love it.