David McLean

listless dust

listless love in that loveless

dust must she replicate me

reduplicated, as rejected, memory

depicting the dry bitch’s tit

a life is

matrix mother material

a mage’s mastery and answers encoded as loneliness

at home, the bone is the

answer and like porn in

Britain, no bone inbut tits.

that squamous hand that emperils the

penciled finger of time that writes a bit

then wanks panic, frantic mourning on the

spilled carpet fitted shit

it sucks love and nonentity

the gray play today, shews

“show” and grows truth on us

like the parceled cancer they sell

as planned oblivion and a box of matches, master

hamster, recessive defection, this regression

that does the split Nina Hagen shat on

we did, remorseless as more recorded horse

smack jack we injected its perfection and listened listless

to its boneless chicken-shit bliss
extemporaneous translation can send us

disgusting boxes with hair in

if we are children

and a friend thought Chrissie Hynde advised him

“you’ve gotta stop sucking that whore”

and such words can door mystery for us

when we miss-take loves

a vampire’s staked steak on the seeded plate.
absence and lies (i) drowned in
a swimming fish,
the Compleat Paternalist
my God-box and this;
sophrosynic structure extends
its feeble seemings
where dream-ins are basic,
(ontic) unleavings;
palaeonymic (i) ship this freight,
a weighty schooner;
love is a Wait:
Despair this Unusual

David McLean was born in Wales though he has lived in self-imposed exile in Sweden since 1987. As of August 2007, he has poems in about eighty issues of 69 magazines and e-zines. In September 2007 he is "poet in residence" at www.poetsletter.com and in August 2008 "centre stage poet" in Decanto. poems are at such sites as Zygote in My Coffee, Erbacce, Sein und Werden, VenerealKittens, Mad Swirl, Lit Circus and Gold Dust. More information is online athis MySpace page and at the Hecale portal.