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

 If the rest's a moving target
give it one blurred comeback
of a scrapped outline
formality.

One more notice those lips
erased neophyte. You trod the
sticky red floor with me it
glanced back up the same score
crudely wonder.

Having that magnificent hot invoice
beat overt as some sanity leaked out
of someone else's knowing blood pores -
in the same argument.
 
& though I get that simultaneous
never-adjust-statement, though youre
caught between headtypes &
conspirators (or theorists), tempt me
not to wonder dirt-obsessed voices
what ill luck would willing have it
reason lost too much for now
the made-up stuff you made us all
swallow.

History will trick that blindly
- it is a blazing thorax, & its trails
appraised as in a (seam) lineup.
Who's to blame the shiny throughout
scenes monochrome onto the
mind tracks bilingual dealings
porn onto those punchcards poured
like sympathy all over someone else's
dream life.

Guessed what the choosing, I chose you.
Occurrence active but the feet too
viscous, like a dream argument
which devoured declines, you're out
against it, & submission is a movement
gentle as a kiss & 10 x more
generous.

Light submissed differently, processed from
fabric parts. The machine operative willing
not to electrocute, familiar background
seems estrangement time. While
history's a gullet bleeding, choking on its
own advice.

We had that planned excursion vehemence
no wonder, just a little out-of-depth
longing as the targets fold & multiply we're
seeping out & back against it
simultaneously motive reason against
(defunct) reason.