DAATH

The Queen's Own Yeomanry Exercise The Freedom Of The City of Newcastle

for Peter Redgrove

That hour in the rainstorm by the muck-coloured Bosphorous, shaped like a biological diagram of a vagina and penis, I was free for an hour, but only to buy cheap army-boots. 

Nowhere is pressureless, bloodless, fateless. We fall off family trees, we break our backs, and then have to crawl towards a destiny; but all we get are penny-in-the-slot glimpses, an hour at the Bosphorous, then back into the tunnels, conveyor belts, and lifts of the time-machine. No time for Sophia. 

In England I walk under buzzards, in London under falcons.

Ignominy, and concealment of it, is the history standard.

I tried to claim a square inch of the A to Z as my own, to cozen it from the Duke of Westminster, to find it in the Thames as one would find a coin, and wash it in the Thames for auction.

The Duke of Westminster was having none of it, the vagina and penis conjoined in brown rain.

http://ianbone.wordpress.com/2014/03/18/you-greedy-bastard-mayday-march-to-the-dukedom-of-belgravia-for-garden-party/

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About Niall McDevitt

Niall McDevitt > poet > author of b/w (Waterloo Press, 2010) and Porterloo (International Times, 2012) > urban explorer > radical pedestrian who leads Shakespeare/Blake/Rimbaud /Yeats walks, among others.
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