66. All The Comradeship of Deviant Art: A Praise Song by the Crowd of People Welcoming the Vagrants & Migrants Into Our City

for all my students at Harlow & Braintree, a goodly crowd

If we praise you
we praise ourselves
for we are all
the lowly people of this place

If we praise you
we praise our children
for they too bring hope
for what does not change
is the will to change
our children and yours
shall carry that on again

If we praise you
we praise our gods
familiar & flourishing
as fully here
as we or you
unabased we face them
& raise up their images
all the gods
upon the trees of this world
& all the others
their faces shine
let your faces shine
let our faces shine
radiating life between us

If we praise you
we praise our poets
for they were all strangers once
before they fell fertile & uttered

If we praise you
we praise our cousins
the blessed holothurians
lovely & sloppy
never to be eaten
addressed w/ a smile of delight

If we praise you
we praise all the moths
& all the foxes too of this town around

56. A Praise Song by Polly Walker in Honour of Winter

Let Winter be praised with serious unseriousness, for we are perpetual students at the Hilson School of Vagrant Poetics, and Winter has sheltered us as we wander like foxes through her hidden assarts & her semifictional stretchers.1
Let Winter be praised as she is utterly variable & veering, sloppy & imprecise, because she is always determined not to merely impress but to be whatever.
Let Winter be praised for letting us flourish within her clear air, & flourish too within her turbid air, both of which we have learned to love as they are.
Let Winter be praised as she tells us how to survive her severest blasts unabased, creeping in & hiding where we shall not be found, then switching and leaping out fully formed, like her sunshine.

Winter’s praise is due as she is a paradise of painters, unshowy & subtle, without monetary value or sentimental tone.
Winter’s praise is due as she is unmarred by any wounds of loveliness, but dapples from sublime squalor to a killing perfection however she fancies.
Winter’s praise is due to her bold & childlike inconsistencies, which catch her enemies unawares as their calculations must lead them astray like a roped line of absurd climbers ready for the avalanche.
Winter’s praise is due like the smoke ascending from our thin fire of faggots, passing out & fading into her fertile void.



1 and the merry organs? as we choose

42. A Praise Song by Sarah in Honour of Paulina

You are ferocious, Paulina as you are maimed
You are the source of delicious pleasure, kitschy & sincerely false
You fuse the fire of intent with incapability
You ignore all tenets but the right
You are never commonplace yet totally familiar
You are what is next
You are starting at 15.29 as a novelty act
You are an important relic of our trash
You are welcome, despite all your damage & your disorder

Yes! You are harsh as bones, as peacocks & our laughter
Even on your stick, you will outlast your friends
Once, you were what we chose
To our delight, you continually make up incomprehensible rules you order us in vain to follow
In all things, though you deny it you improvise
To say it again, you need to be exploring
In truth, you are the Empress of Xi
Poets say you are our warning
As society started, Paulina, you instructed us without words
                             stuck dumb upon your stake