Nancy Pelosi has hip
replaced in Germany.
Her own insurance
Firm refused to pay.
She will be speaking
With Luigi Mangione
For advice on return.

I’d like a Luigi Mangione
perforated pizza with a
hole in the middle, extra
C.E.O. topping of cheese
eggplant and olives presto!

I will siphon from the well,

and leave a Luigi Mangione

message, in italic calligraphy,
                             /
for Buachailli Bowe (in red ink)



Ps.
                      /
Buachailli Bo = Cowboy in Irish.
Phonetic Pronunciation = Bowe
It is used to describe a dishonest
corrupt devious malicious person
without a heart empathy or ethics.
I just met one recently in Ireland,
one of those Brian Thomson types
who treats (some people) like ****,
the ones who don't play golf, etc !

Ps. x 1

Spread it like slurry on the streets,
pass on, put on face book, we need
to expose these leech parasite fleas.

Ps. x 2

I don't own a gun but I have ink and
paper and a fountain pen, and Luigi.

I kissed the cloud, which
    on me, shadows cast.

    It's glass I tilted and
    swallowed darkness.

    The head that shone
   for me, was Guinness.

It is based on trade
Wind trajectories,
Roaring forties, gale
Force and doldrums.
By triangulation such
As Bermuda iSOSoles
Isolationism, locating
May Day Distress calls
Avoids GPS tracking,
Thus permitting high
Seas seizures simply.

I recall writing a dark
poem in pitch ink on
a stygian parchment.

Reminded me of when
I painted my bedroom
completely, in coal black,

but, for a brown bakelite
****, on the surface of
a gun barrel union lock.

The shade diffused what
light there was, the bulb, a
dying star in a distant galaxy.

It could have been
Bower house or
Our house but for
The Homeless in
Gaza it is rubble and
Re-bar in a mound.

An installation artist
Would no doubt coin
A wonderful title for it.

There is a distinct lack
Of colour or are all the
Photos purposely black
And white, lunar like the
Burren District of Clare.

Where Yeats said that
“ there wasn’t a tree to
hang a man nor soil to
to bury one “

Today as the risen sun
Climbed to the top of
   Tower House in
    The Guardian

     cast a crying eye
    on strife on death
      donkey pass by