Thursday, August 23, 2012


If I don’t see you tonight I might die
on Old Street, on New Change
at the old dyke bar in Centrepoint
or knee-deep in the marshes
shivering in the lidos the ponds
high on the heath or banging my head
off the brutal concrete at Southbank.

I wanna be your Mayakovsky
Bolshevik beatbox coming  
drumming at your chest your
dick made of stars pulls me in a
strapon galaxy we rotate around
on the DL on the underground
at the stadia the palaces we see
across a city filled with tourists
whose cash lights up the night
in which we dream with the window
wide & flies in to suckle
at our blood sweet & salt from
the ferric cup from which
we sip & come day we sit
to scratch & seep from each bite

& like an open window
I’ve kept myself ajar tonight
& like a wound that keeps refilling
I got buckets of love for you so come over.