For Every Tib and Tom Cat


20. such ugly remains

Dancing on the sward

From the aging mansion where the youngsters are wont to commit

The most horrific suicides – they

Electrocute themselves high in spiky towers

They hang themselves with chains at the end of which wolf traps snap

They disembowel themselves with kitchen knives

They sedulously maim and amputate themselves

They go at it always with a keen intent

And succeed in making such messes of their own corpses

That picking them up it seems – I’m told

It seems to be really disgusting.

From the crumbling sumptuous melancholic mansion

Where awed shamble the doomed

The manic fervidly set their complicated self-killing contraptions

The degenerate mechanically ensnare their own wasted bodies

It’s good to be just the gardener

Always outside – (never been in

Who’d be so crazy to want to?)

Always semi-busy and about trimming the paths

Always married to the deep green of the plants

And the deep blue of the sea that peeps up where the sward

And the turf gently slope

It’s good to be just the gardener

Occasionally musing at the pink rain while shacking

In my shack at the other end of the huge garden

My holy sylvan abode

And when the old woman of the house

Ancient survivor in the old rich mansion

Comes out to dance a few steps of a minuet on the vast lawn

It is good to be the gardener who reaches out his hand for she to hold

During her simple pirouette

Alas always before yet again she is summoned in front of another ghastly


Last of the bloody brood already – not many more left

Let’s hope

House without youngsters house without angst.

Never so well

Never so well


anyocs de nyacs!

who the 'ell?

La meva foto
C.R. Morell his paltry efforts,