my name will hold up walls
my name is lost between constellations
my name cannot be unlocked
my name is the real name for someone who is called by another name
my name can look at a king
my name opens
my name fell down many stairs
my name is vapour
my name poisons the dreams of my enemies
my name grows in spring
my name has lost itself in surf
my name is searching for a splendid kite
my name is not for anyone
my name connects me to my name
my name has let loose her dogs
my name ran off on a boy
my name has died and been born
my name has ceased to be a word
my name falls from the sky
my name is addicted to mouths
my name feasts on blue
my name rests
my name falls from me when I look at the baby and I am no one always
my name climbs slowly back up the mountain
my name has accepted me
our organisation may help you forget
our organisation has learnt to evade the cyclops
our organisation laughed its head off
our organisation heard music
our organisation let bob scream
our organisation has a new hoover
our organisation rode upon a seashell
our organisation is not a theory but can be
our organisation will let the world take over
our organisation falls in autumn
our organisation called to the mermaids
our organisation gently waits
our organisation has a tunnel that reaches california
our organisation is the sound of a boatyard
our organisation changes everything
our organisation is inflammable
our organisation saw the ceaseless connecting rain
our organisation works night
our organisation cannot be located
our organisation uses chalk
our organisation makes soft mistakes properly into pleasuredomes
our organisation was never a prefect
our organisation is swift
our organisation digressed into the grass and vanished
our organisation survived
we carefully uncover the lullaby of persephone drinking at her mother’s breast
we fill the glass of the self with ozone
we lead words up the garden
we abandon the minotaur in a foreign maze
we bring strong coffee
we sing
we are discovered forgetting the plot
we wake among nettles
we remember the white dawn of passage
we enter the mist of pebbles
we set fire to the diary of milk
we work with pieces missing
we encounter our ignorance at the edge of the concert
we leap into impeccable shadows
we place the weary heart in a sunlit window
we laugh
we give our secrets to a mouse
we make costumes stronger than hate
we build kites in impractical alleyways
we watch the burden of the moon rise
we open the door of the veins of leaves
we witness the compromise of all winged things
we fly
we return
we have more to tell
we want giants
we want more cakes
we want berserk survivors
we want the pencil of earthquakes
we want pure ignorance
we want the screams of the lost boy rolling in dust
we want chords of light stepping over moorland
we want bare feet
we want that listening which is dissolution
we want girl flame
we want the lunar propulsion of improv
we want the sinuous machine of grass
we want magi
we want that flower which is the moment of departure
we want to submit to the butterfly
we want the birds of voice to nest in us
we want to descend into a silence of poplars
we want the broken ornaments of surf
we want a city a whole city
we want a window of rain
we want the small hesitations of the moth to matter
we want the unbreakable blue hawser the sky tows eyes with
we want singers
we want witches
we want earth
we do not want the eye on legs and its search for ever bigger mirrors
we do not want the flogging or the dead horse
we do not want the jet engine and its capuccino
we do not want the story of the radical armchair
we do not want the fresh-faced beelzebub
we do not want the bloodstained postcard
we do not want the debonair bailiff
we do not want the inspector of vocabularies
we do not want the fishskin of lists
we do not want the muffled surgeon
we do not want the jealous stone
we do not want the endless murmuring of those in flight from the facts
we do not want the facts jack just the facts
we do not want the jack of sharks
we do not want the committee
we do not want the doubleglazed tribune of the people’s whim
we do not want the community narwhale
we do not want the endless crumbs
we do not want the lecture on betrayal
we do not want the happiness of statues
we do not want the census of our blood returned to us
we do not want the balanced analysis
we do not want the retired snake
we do not want the leadership of tombs
we do not want the floral hat awarded to the undead
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© the word hoard 2005
