Joshua Comyn

Cluster Boot Clash

in the beginning was a wearing boots with straps
so good for pulling – hence up
in the beginning was a wearing boots with heels
so good for stamping - hence down
hence was a third and so forth hence dimensions till all was all and still becoming

green was the boot and blue was the other
and thundering was their thumping
and lightening their heel click clash

where there was crawling needed was the green boot ready with flat squat body and steadying tail
where there was flying called was the blue boot ready, stitched tatter sail wings to lift with the wind
where there was a gnawing needed was green eager with chattering rend
where there was a spying called was blue game with pestilential eyes
where there was where there they are

a giant carrion beetle clustered in the throat
ruby eyed mandible utterance
is a clashing
is jingle is jangle

retort is romance
reflection repetition and return

in the mouth a carapace encrusted sapphires
at the hour his passing

with our faces we show we are gazing
with our painted faces we offer ourselves
with our polished brows, naught dare refuse us admittance

our voices clamour:
peristalsis forestalled by the barbed bolus
pleasure become hiccup by postponed digestion
and hence we stutter

a giant Marion Beagle was fustered in the goat
bluey spied landable slutterance:
“This is smashing!
A dingle to dangle!”

there was nothing for it but to haste there
such was grue’s desire:
goat flesh swift rent fistula by a blue beak
sprung then the yew
locked was the nock to the string
set was the point (the green nose) for the crawl
blue murder sleek the fletching

Imagine the muck!
Incomparable journey!
All for a fuck!
All for the tourney!

Green: Let me bluster the fust from thy face.

Blue: Let me luster the rouge of thy cheek – with kisses.

Green: Let me muster all roses and press for their fragrance – still art thou sweeter by far!

Blue: Let me brigand galaxies, filch all their radiance – still art thou brightest of stars!

                                             Let me –

Marion Beagle:                       Gentlemen!
                                             Arrival is begetting
                                             pummeling, restive dreaming.
                                             The lawn is a vast stretch of impure:
                                             brindle pelt, mottle brain bricoleur.
                                             Making is miscegenation.

Joshua Comyn is a student in the School of Culture and Communication at the University of Melbourne.
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