my first instinct is to destroy the poet
balance unbalanced by bank balance
boredom like a butterfly fucking off
or the slow bleeding of the rose
haemorrhaging luxury mince
i question her commitment to it
condescension like a flute of champagne tipped from the sun
onto the bonnet of frank o’hara’s
jaguar x type, joyriding round
times square tits out
fuck poetry. i will die of excess candyfloss, levitation, golf carts
fuck poetry: good poetry, sad poetry, fantastic and bland poetry
my last chance is gone
my first instinct was not wrong
Charlie Baylis
Illustration: Atlanta Wiggs