A little speleological poem…

The Special case of Carolime Stone

Carolime? Very different from pore gawdelpus Sandy and his crumbly caste. No streaming tears of watery emotion on the surface, at any rate! Come a rainy day she swallows hard and keeps it under. But oh what complexity lies under that gorgeous exterior; she cracks up as we all do under pressure, and has alas many faults too. Horizontally she is of great interest, as many boys have found, for yes, she is well bedded; by her old bayfriend Cliff three times, then there was that onenightstand (and he did!) in Blackpool, and then came dear old Rob Caswell (and he did too all over) and then just after she moved to Oxwichfordamn forgotten his name, well he only had a porteyny one, and then she met Langton Bayzzhard. But though they defined her outlines and she theirs, she always controlled them; there was much thrusting but no penetration of her crystaline form.

So what goes on beneath the surface? Shallows sea? Well I dare say so orogenetically but we don’t have time to what? You said- I thought you ment- oh shell we see! Clear now! Coral on, Sir. Boil yer suit and hell, well met, a boot time too. We’ve been waiting oh, since opening time. Mind your head, the entrance is rather low. Not that low, you lecherous fumbling fool I know what you’re thinking, Lechar. Spell of spelaeology now’ll soon cool you down, so switch on, ‘s dark inside, single file, Sir will bring up the rear.

Water frenetic resurgance! The noise! Oh yes, it all comes out here. The high roof? yes, there was a collapse, a faaaaaaall. But nothing further came off of it. And there was no solution there, the chemistry wasn’t right. Oh no, saturated already. Do try and stay on your feet. We have to go much further in and up to find a solution. I’ll explain about that in a minute, but first you need to understand what’s happening here.

Ooh Sir it’s very dark in here…

Shh… listen.

Nearly there. Just a little further now, before, betwixt, behind, below, licence me roving mind to go as Carolime Stone stretches out in all directions her well-jointed limbs around us here and look! up there: you can’t see? Lights out then, Come on now, don’t be scared of the dark. Let your eyes get accustomed to the yes? You can? Good. Very faint, a light- daylight. We are standing right underneath the great guzzling swallow or swallet or pot hole itself. And listen! Just a trickle, rain kindly holds off. But a sudden storm on the hill up there and. Climb up here now, towards the light, oh yes, the Solution is to be found here. What? A sexual metaphor describing geology or a geological metaphor describing sexuality? Have to think about that one. Good question, though, precocious little baggage. Temporary hardness? Listen to this, then, as the stream washes all over her smooth body and her throat works as if swallowing she is hard, but the soft streaming water melts her and it seems to her she is dissolved, gurgling in her throat as her head goes back and in her open gullet she Ca, Cooo, breathing so close, loud now in the darkness Hho coo- Cahh! (Cooo, cooo) as the Solution comes, all down the wet sides of her trickling away into a thousand cracks and tiny faults, according to the simple formula:

This poem, call it that, first appeared as a web page of my hypertext novel, Loseable Paradises, back in the days when hypertext novels were a thing. OK, I was a bit drunk on Finnegans Wake at the time…

Speaking of novels… do please click on the links below to see my novels… you can read samples of my novels… you can even buy my novels…

Þe Wyldrenesse of Wyrale 

Anthropocene Park 

Peter and Paul

Tristan and the Dragon Girl: An Easter Story

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