Lakey Comess

Jam and tungsten

Race is between swift and robin. The latter makes
unseasonable appearance, ignoring calendar.

Quick, the children are at school,
get the manacles, handcuffs, paraphernalia.

Jam and tungsten, all is delicious.

Vicious performers turn their heads, watching dogs read
(or simply ignore) expressive right sides of faceless posturers.

It has nothing to do with collaborative effort,
everything to do with mass communication.

Look closely at yesterday to see where it leads.

Request subtitles in American English


Marvellous. Lights reverse onto fissures,
shapes, frozen equipment, buses leaving,
arriving, passengers at the edge of dance floor abyss,
voices penetrating secrets and stillness.


Time and life are deserted.
Next galaxy turns breath whiter than white.


It must be historical etiquette, keeping up with development,
dying institutions, revised title and contents. Haute cocktails,
emancipation, everyone (and his monkey) cordially invited but


      you can't use any names.


Thaw anger over the camp stove. Pull up a marshmallow,
plump, artificially pink, ready to burn.


Reference is brought to you live from the south side.
State of euphoria meets sand pile with heavily made up ayes.


Too taxing for words? Leave your card at the door.
More makes a deal with a recycled broad sheet.


Shake out your host and button up the hangers on.

Lakey Comess, born U S A in 1948, has lived in Israel, South Africa and Orkney and now lives in Glasgow. She has contributed to Big Bridge, Versal, Gulf Stream, Milk, Hutt, Otoliths and other publications, sometimes under the name Lakey Teasdale.
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