“the body has gone underground due to widespread persecution.” Madeleine Shine
| in those times of the interior | in those times of the interior | in those times of the interior | in those times of the interior |
| of antimony | of ambergris | of kohl | of Zanzibar and Shendy |
| dig my grave | I will dig yours | in wet vellum | we go stark laughing |
| rush/ | from behind trees | it was reported | huge grinning |
| clutch/ladies | of amorous | to them | covered in fur |
| fevers/shivering | oh fearful greek katyusha | on a cigar of all nations | unconscionably requited |
| Freud bitten himself to death | Reich askance the whole winter’s edge | Jung suddenly addressed with fondness his stockpot | keep it for your aghast moments |
| this ape thing | this ape thing | this ape thing | this ape thing |
| not universally acknowledged as myth | my half-brother now summertime duke | piss off into your walled garden | not universally acknowledged as myth |
Steve Parker, originally from Liverpool, now lives in Haworth near Emily Bronte’s grave in West Yorkshire, UK. His poetry has been been published in Ditch, Cause and Effect, Dogzplot, Underground Voices, Admit Two, The Chimaera and Chaos International, as well as two chapbooks published by Stylus Books in the UK: Selected Poems by Steve Parker and Tearing the Veil. His blog is: brickstackblockstack.
The Cleave 