fulloflove

“And I shall drive my chariot down your streets and cry
‘Well, it’s me, I’m dynamite and I don’t know why’”
—Van Morrison, ‘Sweet Thing’

The rules do not apply to me I am beyond reproach and fulloflove
So fulloflove and fullonlove (my love can be quite full on) that nothing lands
On or in me except love, and I pass that out and out and out
And mostly still to her. But should I have an occupation for show? If so, I’ll say something like

I went to the mill yesterday! They grind boulders into stones into pebbles
Into gravel into very fine sand, and it’s a grand ol’ show, the breaking down
Of big old lumps of things like that… I love foxes (they are
Irreproachable like me!) and it’s as beautiful as

A sleeping fox, the breaking down and down
Of rocks until you’re left with just dust. But you must excuse me—a mill?
Of course there’s no mill! I live in the clouds! (He lives in the clouds.)
But there’s always Fantastic Mr Foxes and rocks

To see and you should see its ears prick up! Can you feel my heart pricking up? Can hear it?
Could you really see me working in a mill? I am so fulloflove (and full on it)
That I just say anything here quite dizzyingly. I am going to send her a belated birthday card today!
I am manic and unemployed; this love I have for her and thinking up

Whatever I like: that’s my occupation; for why not! I do anything
I want now—I feel beyond reproach; so who needs
A silly old job to break down with
When you exist so fulloflove?

(A version of this poem was first published in my pamphlet L’etoile, October 2024. Redacted copy available here: https://ashleydunn.co.uk/letoile-redacted/)