Question & Answer 10 – Daniel Roy Connelly

Question 10

We’re two short
of a dozen,
Pickle,
and I still don’t know
what we’ve learnt?

Can we name each other’s
childhood pets?
Our first crushes?
Mothers maiden names?
Bank account details?
Last five addresses?

I guess I’m just asking
for some way to scam
you, Double-O Dan.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 10

(for every scam
…………….Soraya sunflowers
…………………………..sway until the day
……………………………………………………….after tomorrow)

Your first crush is Cromwell,
so deep your love for that rat,
so wildly taken by Cromwell’s
disdain for art – die poetry!
you volunteer pecuniary information.
Next thing a golden wheel’s dragged
upright on posh sawdust, stationed
through damasked arches cut
from monumental granite,
you’re five grand lighter,
in a pickle, no matter, that rat
tears your heart strings,
the patter of tiny feet
tic-tac tic-tac tic-tac tic-tac
Road, Mews, Close, Drive,
Letsby Avenue, number 45,
upstairs, start there, mothers’
maiden names thrilled
in the rank sweat
of enseaméd beds. Spill
the beans, mother of Godzilla,
and lonely mamma of Don Cannelloni,
Cromwell the rat’s taking us for a ride
so why can’t we two know too?

– Daniel Roy Connelly

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Question & Answer 9 – Daniel Roy Connelly

Question 9

Daffodils taste like lettuce,
let us pray,
lettuce pray.
I like what you did there, Dan,
can I call you Dan?

I’ve punched sentences
out like I’ve punched
holes through contracts
that were more handcuff
than handshake.

I believe in the written
word when it is free
to give a phrase or nod
to a variety of different
pages and presses and p-

people. I think I was going
to say people, might have
been peapod or ptsd or
pfft. Regardless, a good day
always starts with a p.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 9

Precisely.

I’ll not beat around the pfft bush:
I’ve got something direct for you Aaron,
a free nod, a chance phrase for different people, all me.
You may use any, Aaron, we’ll answer.
They come chronologically:

Pickle
Booby Eyes
Danny Dot-Eyes
Danny-Danny-Dan-Dan
Cauliflower Ears, Cauliflower Ears
Concorde Nose, Concorde Nose
Dog-shit Dan
Dandy Dan
Danny La Rue
Danny the Pranny
Ditto Dan
Dan Con Nelly?
Daniel Spaniel
Double-O Dan
Don Coniglio
Don Dan di Dando
Dannyroo Loy Connery
Dannelly Cuntelly
Don Cannelloni
…’king connelly …’king Connelly …’King Connelly

– Daniel Roy Connelly

Question & Answer 8 – Daniel Roy Connelly

Question 8

Maybe you’d be fucked, Daniel,
but I’d be fucking furious if I had to share
a seat next to Vin Diesel’s ego in a passing
shower on the edge of England and Scotland.

When I talk to flowers, I speak only of
bougainvillea and begonia, flowers I hear
hum the morning in check when the death
watch beetle has ground itself into cinnamon.

If all roads bleed to Rome, what shape do the
roads in Rome take? I’ve got veins in the back
of my hand with more dexterity than road maps.
Tulips on each knuckle as melted isotopes.

We live large and die in outer space, counting
the miles to Saturn’s outer rings and watching
in wasted splendour as we pass Anthe and realise
the whole thing is just a big dusty mess.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 8
[A8 is the Gate]

Trouble is dust settles
for less than it should,
might be insecurity or
a liquorice-flavoured
wood that went round
back in black & white.

Diesel on Hadrian’s Wall,
there’s a line to punch out
the lights of mid-sentence.
Daffodils are good for chat
and taste like lettuce, let us

pray:

Dear Rome,
your roads are shit
we’ve had some fine minds working
to metaphorise your randomness but shit
is the absolute best I can come up with for it

Anthe & Cleopatra,
grab a load of those
satellites colliding,
we won’t be left
wondering, no sir.

Bit frivolous this
I know. Summer
licks the heat of
mongering dry,

try this before out, bro

If I’m troubled by every folding of your skirt / am I guilty of every
male-inflicted hurt? is a line Paddy McAloon beat me to thirty years
ago, when I say beat me to, I mean different ballpark, his arena
grandiloquent, touched in the bleachers by glittery numinousness,
always loved sprouts, different sport altogether if you like, mine’s
more an empty squash court, ha! seeing Paddy and me in competition.

– Daniel Roy Connelly

Question & Answer 7 – Daniel Roy Connelly

Question 7

Your doctor sounds a lot like my submarine
Chief – the one who pressed me hydraulically
and opened my valves. I had nowhere to go,
Daniel, couldn’t sit with you in Casaletto,
or give a confession somewhere near the Vatican
while hoping I don’t dream of his touch.
All grease, no breath. Where was my plane ticket
to visit you? I still wake up and see his hands
in my pants, and feel the vice on my dick
and feel the pain in trying to tell somebody.
You know who I told? My wife, three weeks
after I met her, three years after it happened.
Now, every Thursday, while you piss yourself
on the number 64, bladder full of espresso, I sit
with a peppermint tea and a room full of men
as we try to move on. And I struggle to tell them
about that time when I was eight
and the camera flashed while I posed on the stairs.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 7

[Edinburgh to Carlisle]

I want to say, oh you poor fucker,
but as soon as we do that we’re fucked.
Let’s always hope it’s a passing shower.
Never let hands settle for more than one hour.

A certain seepage of past malfeasance, yes,
occasionally inundates the day, like the time
Uncle Chuckle bounced me too close on his knee while
Aunty Garter refused every flavour of wafer at tea.

My fingertips entering a turd in a pair of underwear,
infant school, blur, the boy next to me, when he hung
them up, he had red hair, Lloyd something, v quiet.

oh you poor fucker,

pushed down the stairs at 14,
broken ankle during break,
Danny rushed overhead
to the next-door A&E
like a scene out of Gandhi,
all boys’ grammar, you know how it is,
couldn’t get the lick of it personally.

I am etiolated without every single instance, Aaron.
There I go. Talk to the flowers, Daniel.
It’s as nothing when you think of China.

I’ve no plans to change my posture on you.
I need to be sure when they end my nightmares are true,
that the devil in white down the road really lives for hate.
We have found a way to log them; anima quaesitor.
All roads bleed to Rome, mate.

– Daniel Roy Connelly

Question & Answer 6 – Daniel Roy Connelly

Question 6

Daniel, you’re all food without the recipe – how do I put these pieces together? Or am I even supposed to? Your anthropomorphised letters ring true to my medulla oblongata – see, I can do italics too, I can cook up meals and give you a spoon to eat the waste with. I love it because I feel like I’m in your house, in Rome, drinking stereotypes and eating clichés [I’ll have espresso and pizza, you’ll have a manuscript and two types of prosecco]. There are bees at the window, Daniel, and we’re being told to save them but how can we do that without wearing some sort of ‘I love bees’ bracelet? I think it’s probably time we stopped bullshitting and actually spoke. I’m Aaron, I pissed the bed until I was 12 when a nurse fitted an alarm to my pants that would go off if I began peeing at night. It worked within a week and the nurses were so happy that they bought me tickets to a theme park. The next day my mum gave those tickets away.

Your turn.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 6

Begin

I’m not one to keep things narrow,
I’m not here not to be known,
I pissed myself on the 64 bus
to The Vatican after an espresso, big deal,
to the Giallo Rossi bees: we can sit side by
side at my desk in Casaletto and watch the lot
of them cluster on the pains, swarm
enough here, 28 degrees this evening,
I’ll have some bracelets run up,
the bees will receive their full deserve,
bromance or what? You’re right:

when I was fifteen, my mother
accompanied me into the
paediatrician’s office to find
out why I wasn’t developing,
watched me undress, the cow,
lie on the stretcher-bed, him play
with my balls and ping
my virgin cock up and down in manual
a few times without wearing gloves,
Egon Schiele take a, Schiele take a bow,
I can’t imagine your mum…

that’s not one you walk away from sight unseen
that’s not one I’ve thought of since I was fifteen
I nearly almost FUCKING HATE YOU for that
I can’t because you are Aaron and like Daniel a

– Daniel Roy Connelly

Question & Answer 5 – Daniel Roy Connelly

Question 5

There was a hole in my bucket
but I filled it with Damien Hirst’s
giant capsules, and Francis Bacon’s
refusal to be knighted.

……..Let’s not age ourselves.
……..Let’s let our art age us.

Do you believe every invisible inch
of you is really covered, or is that
just a metaphor for the way we let
each other read our skin?

……..This work is my book
for you, Daniel, to devour.

Keep your fuck off days, spread them
like old tools across the garage,
and set the chalk paint alight. At least
we’ll then have a canvas.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 5

[The Comeback]

{May rain and a ventino chill tonight, masculine-
looking clouds, taught, razor-edged in the city
with an excess of semen sitting in its ballparks.

…thought I’d ease you in via the comfy chair, Aaron.}

Dear Heart,

accepting your work – I do, I do – with open arms would be more decorous
than to devour, more Daniel I suppose, I’d be the last to ask, oh, no-one did.

There’s a deuce I need off my chest,
I hope you don’t mind being exploited thus:

(a) I walked past a student who said, ‘I like my cuisine like my soirées … haute.’

(2) Can you think of something petionable because I feel one coming on? I hate isolation. ……………………………………………………………………….There

—————-Before I forget,
Officer Fukowski dropped by.
I told her not tonight.

I do believe every invisible inch of me
is really covered with a metaphor
to be read whatever the weather
as inkings of polysemous seeds,
a Body Works of exogenous ambiguities.
I doubt I’m alone. What would I know
about wanting to shove Damien Hirst’s skull up his un-jelloed arse,
you ask?
By God I think it would give the country the fillip it so badly needs.

Now there’s a metaphor that’s been waiting to detach
itself from my unruly innards which are now plain tripe.

{I have opened a folder, Dialogical Warfare,
which houses our, OUR, banditry of
epistolartarianistemisations marching
like penguins or ants or wobbly armies
towards a brighter day or possibly a pamphlet.

Actually, this littler last bit isn’t true,
I’m only Fukowski with your head}

– Daniel Roy Connelly

Question & Answer 4 – Daniel Roy Connelly

Question 4

Live commentary is acceptable
……..in certain social situations
such as ordering complicated coffees
……..or buying your weight in vinyl records.
I didn’t see Elvis on Sunset Boulevard
……..but I’m pretty sure I saw Nikki Sixx
trying to siphon the sunlight into his veins.
……..I have a heart too, and it screams
for a beating heart beating a beating heart.
……..If you’re heart is so dark, Dan,
then why don’t you paint it in bright colours?
……..Give it some life. Tell it to fuck off
in the early hours when the reverb
……..is caressing your pillow a bit too much
for sleep.

– Aaron Kent

Answer 4

BEGIN

Have I not given enough
Lux in Tenerife to colour
the drolleries of a FUCK OFF DAY?

……..Sick of the effort, tbh, soft heart,
……..ran the brushes down to stubble
……..trying to get the different colours to stick.

…………….So I took my heart and tagged it instead.
…………….Overnight, indecipherable squirls
…………….covered every invisible inch of me.

……………………Dark core’s emblazoned now, pal,
……………………might not even be mine anymore,

…………………………..like when out of the blue
…………………………..you meet someone you really like
…………………………..and they tell you they like you too.
…………………………..You don’t see that every day.

………………………………….Tear into the tub of salsa.
………………………………….Knead the finest Roman dough.
………………………………….Cherish nonna’s smoked scamorza.
………………………………….Raise a glass of prosecco.

…………………………………………I’m just kidding with you. I’ll refrain.

Remember that hole in my bucket?……..It’s all that’s left.

Nothing will come of nothing…………………………………………………Speak again.

– Daniel Roy Connelly