Out of shells an e an s shes and hes

(in ultramarine Italian mode with a German “Ich”)


Please clam up like the vongola

(“ongola!? ongola!?”)

and feel your inner zeal

mussel the cozze in

(“cozze!? cozze!?”)

in relentless caresses

‘cause your deepness shares the darkness

(but it’s Pacific you’ll see)


“thy abyss

is abyssal

oh fatal to him”


let the granchio crabbily crawl

(“granchio!? granchio!?”)

around your simple white feet

and scuttle-around the-fish


while I hold you in il Seppia

grabbing you in tenta-cles

(“if it was, please, just use to be“)


lob- the claws of l’aragosta into the endless… well, cheers!

and holy holy mackerel,  how I love you

– you per se

in lo sgombro of an umbrella,

a postcard – no seal

wondering through, thou… me

diving into you and me

(“and bring the doc just

pointdoc, yes

we will phank you

– ‘you’ and ‘me”)


But still there,

there where you oyster in shallow thoughts,

you, my sweat little ostrica waving out a spada-ish

sword-fishing out that precise she

you my devil-she-childiny,

you an e s me



seriously, “don’t-you-see?

It’ll be Pacific, you, me

(maybe a rendezvous in tea?)


Oh mighty mighty pacifier

This is shit, he just wees!


Meanwhile, along the blue of the sea horizon someone will ask:

“Is this to be?

To be in shell, only self

A F’kingIch bin gebin?”


Please, darling, could you just pass me the



“thy abyss

is abyssal

oh fatal to