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Marylebone's Wedding

Pagans I don’t know what they do with them
Chuck em in the river I Spose
You try drawing the head of Xipe Totec he will take
All your drankeeness, guile and something else which you will not
                                                   Be getting back.

Cornkingdom! Feed us your husks..
I’m talking spectacles of excess like the Demolition Derby
Not for theory but for my little party at which
                                                                       I’m sure you’ll come

withall the indignity of a collapsed bouffant
Or the pissed bride and groom sliding down the embankment
                                  toward their departing pirogue

I wander as I must the botanical gardens as I must
  It seems to us a colonial fetischery
  Redeemable as a pharmacy- here
  Are the juices of the sacred Maguey Plant
    Succor to the schoolchildren who carve in its flesh
                       Details of their crushes

Where are those vegetative triffid gods the poppies
  Who give us little opiate blumens in the blood
    Where the delicious loblolly
Or those higglady pigglady plants that give us peach bonbons
  The fabulous dollar note the terrible marshmallow

Where is their secret armoury
  Their cabinets of technical biofilth?
There must be some campaign to keep the animals away
The aphid the sexy leech of heat the sacred maguey worm

Sort of an obscene reserve for plant-o-philes
I must follow its honkeytonk logic and make it familial to myself
Look, there’s a nice bit of Rodneybeard, a savvy but flakey Shirleybush
The Erniegrass is everyone’s favourite while the Bessiegrass is often intractabley brittle
The Sharynfern is very pretty, poisonous in youth and dying as soon as it reaches maturity
                                                                                     Having a certain charm of insolence
The Patricia Gum an obvious Matriarch even as a sapling
Kaye Doug Brucie Ken Marg Pat Gus Leigh Brett Shirl Wayne
  They all turned into gang-gangs and pissed off
                     Back to Ulverstone

The magpies rouse in the supernaturally heated air
  There is a strange Murphyness to it
The intricate folly I mean

You know they straightened the elbow of the river to build it
               This anti-kink an original blasphemy

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Poem Audio

  • Duncan Hose reads 'Marylebone's Wedding'