Saturday 22 December 2012

Image 1

Image 1

An approach through wet 
air pin-sharp & blown under; 
sidelong a body
and over then down, papery brown, 

eyes, hardened, concreting: drenched 
in sky surface tension 
depth surface spread plain & 
nearly still, a temptation 

for hand heels let the body 
let itself dipping a pair of wrists 
wet hard cold knees dip 
knees saturation. Ossifying light. 

Like unlike crystal. Concrete 
light breath teeming drops. Look; 
looking; the ground being 
hard beneath. The still film 

all autumnal. Rippled 
with 500-odd stony. 
The body crawling
stony-hard. Sky-wet. 

Friday 19 October 2012


Reflection a shine dimly
porcelain extending into late soft air.
hard certainty gathering
a glowing evening hubbed, when attended;
passive & resistant; a
weak force partnering and combating –
sublime quantities of worlding energies.                    
   A vortex
of chinking & a
 comical shuffling to orders, through varnishing mists eating
semi-skilled lungs, anti-septic shadowless light,
bent heads in ear-muffs,
heartsick & dreaming.

Thursday 27 September 2012


surging hot curves & falling dips falling back negotiating rural night black full beam
staggering hairpin one in four flashing of chrome and shine head lit ‘phantom black’
paint; midday seashine sunflash arseache . . .  yawning morning motorway windblast
high speed corridor legsore boredom & anxiety lookingout for red flash; getting on summer 
leathersweat I Wanna Be Your Dog; passing shining yellow smudge greengold
leaning past surging through & up high velocity flowing blood rush to climbing cloud immensity
sublime white on blue, the whole universe is natural, petrol rubber powerhouse metal heat with
my baby 'bout half past eight dipping and cresting waves of asphalt sky headfull howling, roaring
legs fucking horseboxed & queued cages & cage riders dreary distances exhausted
benumbed drop-off seascape dusking purgatorial night revelling dream legs arm up with

Tuesday 3 July 2012


Rain greening; I sliding head we turning palm to grip spasmodic
                    fuming breath quiet & a dirty brow sheening; a doppler
wailing phantastic obscenities imploding concentrate furrowing dis-
                     unity good lost broken differential slipping and con-
junction. Acid teeth. Predatory stumbling, tottering clumpy drunk. 
                     Inflating zones of contraction; squeal. Impulsing outer night 
dusting sill, damp sheet / heaving flank. We
                     exquisite tentative magnesium aggression, we scarlet & white, 
I black silent ecstatic shocks, sharpening in green air,
                     wet-night concrete & the hungry stench of fluid acrid musk
erotic olfactory feasting, a flip-top head, a twitching pulsation of a shoulder-blade,
                     a drift of smoke through an open window. 

Sunday 13 May 2012

Proletariat (fragment)

chains drenched in sea spray. A raising arm in a
grey vortex of murmuring & a spinal optimism.   Determined intestinal  despair.  City sky
rising cloud shifts; a dripping drop amongst picket-line head hairs. Refusing,  
forging. Roaring fingers, picking, piercing, gripping, throbbing &
her head is bobbing acquiesence but her shoulders palpitate
with fury and desire.  To be a robber, a conquerer. Living through shards
of glass.  The grass is soft and damp between her fingers, greening her nostrils.  
I blink and sting in the sweating sun. He blinks and stings
under a weak sarcastic force.
A shove in the back. A crack to the head.  

Drifting exhausted & taking normalisation. Being realistic.
Come back another time. Having a  cigarette & a pint;
laughing scattered.  To the revolution. Let's have another round.

The sun is shining outside, with fuzzy dreams of running. An edge of nicotine craving.
Ankles skinned with iron chafing. Clocking off for a piss; live for pleasure, not pain.
All you have to lose is boredom and a throat clogged with boxes, cement,
the stiff voices of pissed-off punters and the inevitability of being cheated.; bypass the gates in the first place.
Sheltering from cracking smoke under a wagon wheel, her chest might break with 
dry dizziness, scarlet salt, a sexual thrill of tearing open the future. 

A pinnacle of murmuring affinity as salt is passed; consideration negating trepidation:
aggravation in terms of fucking nonsense all the same, canting prattle infecting my own mum's speech 
and yours. A grinning crowd jiggers and giggles and frays around the edges with a gun rising up,
her furious love flows with intent around a rifled barrel.  

Our fingers flicker, dawning,  for an alarm

Tuesday 20 March 2012


clicking concretion, sun sliding across brilliant multihues
caramelising an easiness of gaiting drawing in singing & scenting &
depth of rapid  beating. A muscular & memorial line
through fecal multitudes, quavering forces of roarings;   
fearsnaps; fierce intrusions of blue light or dark
bathing cold amber. Wriggling milky multiple warmth tearing
sightless iron walkless black drift.
Presenting a lit clickpadding brief and fleeting at a trot 
feral, domestic, into running summer grass.  

Saturday 25 February 2012


Forcing infinite microdimensions temporal & standing
a flowing; labouring from footings always sweating rhythmic
waves rimpling tympanic sheets & sheer scouring
construction tears upper layers and beats through
earth to sky. A blossoming decaying. Simultaneously through immense 
varieties of speed. Filling with flesh life & multiplying at that and 
beyond streams of hairy wind-sacks conjoining with 
cosmic multiplicities & dancing galactically, mountainous creep and slippage

Monday 13 February 2012

Partition 2

The proletariat is the working class but the working class are not the proletariat

The significance of all this for my current argument is simply that the individual proletarian is an assemblage and an event, a life, that is composed of, and with, the society, the economic structure and the collectives of which he or she is a part. He or she is a part of them; they are a part of him or her. She is her membership of the proletariat; the proletariat is what it is in part because of her membership of it. There is no opposition between the individual and the collective. The proletariat is itself an individuation as an event that becomes through the individuals that compose it who are themselves, along every trajectory, events and collective assemblages. 
However, it also needs to be understood that the event that is the proletariat is not a ‘people’, which is a bourgeois concept that suggests a definable collective identity and culture. This is why, at this point in my argument, I am deliberately not using the term ‘working class’; it is perfectly possible to project a working class identity or a working class culture, and I would argue that this is a reactionary project, an argument that is somewhat supported by the (limited) success of the fascist BNP in doing precisely that. It is reactionary because it suggests that workers have a collective identity that is discrete and separable from the wider society and the economic system within which it exists. It is the collective correlative of the individual bourgeois subject. The proletariat, on the other hand, is purely an event composed of the common interests of individual workers within capitalism – their ultimate common interest, as I have already stated, being a surpassing and dissolution of capitalism that would also and simultaneously be the surpassing and dissolution of the proletariat. 
No communist future can be based in the proletariat as such; no communist practice in the present can be based in notions of proletarian identity in the present. The proletariat is immanent to capitalism and will disappear along with it: there will be, there can be, no proletariat in a communist society.
This suggests that the proletariat is the only necessarily revolutionary group in relation to capitalism. Other minoritarian collectives – women, ethnic minorities etc. – can conceivably win full ‘equality’ with men, with white people, with heterosexuals, which is to say that they can be accepted into the majoritarian, within capitalism and without disturbing its fundamental structures. These collectives may have been, and may continue to be, exploited by capitalism but they are not immanent to it. It is, however, utterly inconceivable that the proletariat can gain equality with the bourgeoisie; the idea is absolutely oxymoronic. This is perhaps why Deleuze and Guattari state that ‘The power of minority, of particularity, finds its figure or its universal consciousness in the proletariat.’ The only two courses of action open to the proletariat as such are either amelioration – which might make some workers more comfortable but will leave them in the same subaltern and precarious class position – or the surpassing of capitalism and of the proletariat itself.

Friday 20 January 2012

Innocence 2

Love a breath heat satin trail yes unwritten
blaze sweet through electricians’ knee-pits &
monogamous prejudices, love inscribing tomorrow.

Sin was slack convention grinding the workers,
reactionary fakery; skin thoughtfully in response &
forgetting, thrilling a mobility constructing

crime patterning fires of libertine order.

Friday 6 January 2012


portents                       gears
       gnawing abyss
an                 noise
                      mindful                 burning
           stink         seriousness
    empty glass &
                       scouring         for
                          skin          trapped    a
train           leaves
as   bile
                                           blinding          hollow
an passions
                                                                       &    misrecognising
     searing           shaking
                  harrowing                gripped in