Open 11am to 8pm
Royal Festival Hall (Level 5), Southbank Centre, LondonOpen Tuesday - Sunday from 11am to 8pm
A rumpled sheet
of brown paper
about the length
and apparent bulk
of a man was
rolling with the
wind slowly over
and over in
the street as
a car drove down
upon it and
crushed it to
the ground. Unlike
a man it rose
with the wind over
and over to be as
it was before.
on desert like a spoon of cold blood
where the mighty auroch graze at her big white stain
her tongue to god’s
through a priceless gauze. he likes this
IO of the
the abomasum and scur. the king of egypt
bathes in rosewater for her
IO - a portrait
by Gerhard Richter: haptic rosettes
of cardinal blue / fog in the Strait of Istanbul / horn-cooped moon
IO can’t concentrate
for the gadfly stings. her temperament is assumed
to be multidimensional. she has, after all, such human eyes.
Man in dress gives bookie slip.
Car crash; lost love; paradise found.
Lift broke. 18th storey flat. Shit.
I'm happy. No thanks to him.
Methane man in rotten egg hoax.
I write laziness with one 's'.
Missed last bus; snow knee high.
Dyslexic pimp has bought a warehouse.
He neglected me. I left him.
Uncertainty principle: to do or not?
Growling dog. Fence 50 yards. Knackered.
Boob job, loud explosion, missing hairpiece.
All my life, I've fought death.