150/100 & 142/90 -
   hardly rare ratios in terms
of blood pressure...

but prior to that...
prior to weighing in at 253£s...
and having the nurse
cite the fat problem
using a concentration camp
analogy:
voluptuous and giggly...

well... there was me getting
all pretty for the visit...
even applying beard oil -
soaking wet from soap
and a brisk walk...

        that i had to walk out
of the house with a brain
agony as if my skull had
to next a hedgehog with this:
beaten sponge like substance
moulded from
    an octopus and
some swizz cheese...
        
      a walk most memorable...
sunglasses although
the day was overcast...
some music on the headphones -
culture: harder than the rest...
and... an apple...

the left hand in my trouser
pocket... the right hand moving
to the method of eating
an apple while walking...

     because there was a method...
in Knausgård's meditation
on autumn...
                it's not like haven't
done this before...
but... yes...
eating the whole apple...
with the core...
for... prior to eating the bitter
core: the sweetness of the pulp
in mouth from first bite
insignia hard...

           yes... the core... a reminder
of something: otherwise...
what guilt? to throw an apple
core onto the street would be
like... spitting out a chewing gum?
i could have:
            
  and then... come evening....
a new way of drinking...
   25 x 10 = 250ml, which equals...
             circa 500kcal...
apparently i need to bring my
blood pressure down...
i will not be easily persuaded
by high blood pressure tablets...
at least: prior to a bicycle...
if...                a solid diet...

yes... but most certainly translating:
alcohol turns into fat around
the waste: so much for ******* it all
in for a veneer physique...
                   it's not that bothersome...
bothersome is...

looking at the eastern europe
region section
       on poetryfoundation.org...
and seeing how...
there's not a single ****** poet...
             tristan tzara is not included
in the list: so much for my english...
perhaps a much
   misunderstood "exile"...
the idea of nation-building
right now is a blister -
         traitor as i, "technically" should
be writing coś takiego...
                  i.e. something like this...
  
u nich: wszystkie głosy są
                    gotyckim postrachem...

what a lovely gloss of:
ideology from busy-body to nobody
to: a muddling in middles...

back to visiting the nurse:
          by god and the devil's
testicles and *******:
            wearing a face mask
in a very formal setting...

   was i complete cool cucumber /
bonanza bananas ******:
at one point i pretended to smile
to reciprocate the nurse
"perhaps" smiling too...

           and how nonchalantly
she gave that concentration camp
analogy and the modern ill
of machinsation easing certain
physical labours...

just saying...
            what a strange view from
behind a pseudo-niqab...
       i'd just need to shave my beard
and my hair...
well... i did shave my armpit hair
before going outside...
and as i stood in the mirror with my
arms behind my head...
the hair on my torso: chest
and stomach... and these two
pitiable holes of flesh and stubble...

metro-man!
           all that would be
necessary now would be a tinge
of pale pink in my clothes...

       from the list of eastern european
poets: austria is eastern european...
milan kundera says that there's most
certainly a central europe...
but it is well known in western europe
that's a banality outright
and also a banality concept...
          
the greenwich meridian thumb -
central being germany -
  some little cluster-**** drifting
between existence and negation...
     a far away place we know little
of... Chamberlain with
a loo roll coming back from Munich...

ivan blatny: as denoted by
rude pravo, march 30th 1948 -
                  perhaps i share some
of his struggles...
alas! where are these ritzes of
yester-century that i too could
perhaps frequent:
for all those... "uncomfortable" people
outside a purpose built:
psychology macabre...
                    pyramid schematics
were once the furore!
- and sensible language!

jak grochem o ściane!

the list: elfriede jelinek,
             marko vešović,
              ernst jandl,
               jános pilinszky,
         marin sorescu,
               miroslav holub,
      friederike mayröcker,
   paul celan,
        tomaž Šalamun -
           (if) i add more to the list...
it will be the same list
should it only have included
SHalamun or veSZović -

pić, palić: konia walić-
   drink, smoke, *******...
alt.: pije, pali, konia wali
  (he) drinks, (he) smokes, (he) masturbates -
so much for gender neutral
pronouns when...
there are gender neutral verbs...
except with a past-participle:

piłem (he said: i drank)
piłam (she said: i drank)
   paliłem (he said: i smoked)
   paliłam (she said: i smoked)
   konia... waliłem... etc.

it's just somehow staggering that
the english can be thus
butchered, treated like a piece
of crude ore...
   that grammar can be
a bad surgical glitter coax...
to give birth to...
       i'm sure joseph merrick
had a beautiful soul...
                  but i imagine...
the veneer of a generic body...
but the language that looks
exactly like: when frankenstein
took it upon himself...
to inseminate a woman with
gorilla *****...

yes... quiet frankly: what a day!
that part of walking
with one hand in my pocket
and the other holding an apple...
just walking and eating an apple...
i don't think i need to dream;
there was enough architecture
in that alone...
a skeleton and the roughage
of cement / slabs...
and of course... a pair of shoes.