Bree hasn’t always like the taste of gasoline.
But he likes it now.
He recomends you pick up the first Pick Up you get your hands on.
Fill it with the stuff.
I mean to the point tho where it spills all over the asphalt.
After all, it’s just fossils and they’re long dead.
What’s this about ice caps and droughts in [...]
Gas
Ram
A complex alcholic fudge.
Hairy drinks lost hopelessly in the hedge
A blurry knife edge stagger from day to night.
Bank holidays belong to God through the red vision of Jack.
Can we see to guide each other home.
An existential walk alone
Does anybody remember Eddy King? Bree does. Met him last time I went to England. he was at Exeter racecourse reading his words over a loud speaker. Words, strung together. Not poetry.
“I hang words round the necks of victims”
Eddy King is a hero, he always speaks the truth. Bree spent the night drinking red wine [...]
BAd WorKiNG
if I have to drag the corpse of past hope up the stairs
Then so do you.
the lift don’t work.
No the lift never works.
The fat man smiles at passing passes.
Swipe and load yourself into government files.
flies hold court inside whilst the birds
mostly gulls
dreaming of eating pigeon innards
squashed by cheap mass transport.
I was born in the desert
sang [...]
Bree Wedges, the man – the myth
Bree Wedges, the man – the myth
Watson Drops out of shot.
caustic acid drinks
he leaves a little bit for the plants.
passes away.
wakes up beside the sea.
beside the seaside
beside the sea.
Holmes? Holmes?
Where is home in the chattering carraige?
How many doors slide shut?
I got kicked out of a speeding train…
…but I come back
Bree unchained
every loser wins.every loser wins.every loser wins.
a beginning
…some say he’s made of fire, others that he was born in a jet of sea spray… Bree is a man.
