Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

               in thinning light
                                       rites of deforestation
               sanity for sale
                                       value for time

          knee jerks from Allegri
                                       or counterfeit tribute band
          tinny hollow the ear
                                       tears jerk      saliva follows
          civic pride’s swallowed parade

        the dynamics of open surprise
                                       shuttled hot from lingual systems
        not lazy enough to buy
                                       what we’re sold to be
        no more new year cards
                                       so what’s your underwear like

      the mirror has no nominative face
                                       not fit for grown men or
      shrunken men either         absence a fetish
                                       redeemable by cards      more you send
      less to deal                don’t wear any
                                       dieu et mon droit de seigneur
      reduced to cottage industry camp ware

   selectively cancelling the past for future manipulation
                         into the present vacancy      promise blends surprise
   and recognition     of needs unrealized till described
                         to be consumed according to corporate guidelines
   choosing some bodily part      with it following
                         meridian lines along zones of partner’s skin
   charging cells hitherto undreamed with orgasm current
                         not yet featured in mail order catalogues

        absent fullness on the never-never
                                       psychic economy of compulsive retention
        «I am every dead thing»
                                       receipts no guarantee of control

          over means of communication
                                       to treat yourself with
          rich in token plastic

             now everybody’s miming

                                       where’s the soundtrack