Scott Walker Dimple
November in July.
Eyes glistening in darkness,
like freshly crushed flies.
Fourteen bones held together by avian phlegm.
When the whistling has ended,
I won't stale again.
Slurry soul. Unbearable clink
fraying through tartared chink,
Took the Dorgi, left the dent-
frozen fast
in the sagging night.
4/4 of silence 5/4 of shame.
When the sneezings subsided,
I wont stare again.
INK, A DINK A DINK-
Hej do, hej do
A DINK A DINK A DINK A DOO.
Hej do, hej do
Jutland is crooning narcrotic Lorilies.
Ingen...ingenting. Ingen...ingenting.
Awaiting command, its huge snout-
wedged between my thighs.
Ingen...ingenting. Ingen...ingenting.
INK, A DINK A DINK
Hej do, hej do
A DINK A DINK A DINK A DOO.
Hej do, hej do
Jutland is hvining while stars fall in thuds,
Ingen...ingenting. Ingen...ingenting.
flattening the cheek,
like soft muffled scuds.
Ingen...ingenting. Ingen...ingenting.
Tongues lick the lead Lego,
they won't be denied.
If you're listening to this,
you must have survived.
My only pige passed your only dreng
in Jutland's sheer city.
Farvel, farvel
November in July
Apropolis lip to where acid-fast fly.
Crepey and shiny.
guanine restrain.
While out lifting scalp,
I will not glare again.
Took the shilling, ditched the score,
frozen fast
in the lowering night.
In the lowering left-testicle night.
