:: Article

Duos #10 – Chanel

By Tom Crompton & Natasha LaForce.


What is a man?
Who is muddles?
No, I’ll just revert to my original plan of not saying anything.
I pulled a hair from your book, which seemed too intimate;
Like rubbing a trace of lipstick from a cheek with my thumb.


Baby don’t hurt me, I am the pusher
man with a leaf blower on his back and thought oh yess.
Have I made this like a squirrel through out the house, kept that
day’s worth in the my pocket of my jeans. But I was very tired
And the evening too boring to even say it
My friend tells me: I just feel so old now.


It’s. That the hours and hours have driven something through me.
On prayer corner dress down in C light and oo light
Brave new world, she says- to the 24 hour sauna- for any beast there will make a man. It’s really the foxes in the light
He squirmed a little. Against the Cold uneven smell in the air
After the meaning was routed out and sloppily applied to the wrong body.


Shall we go and waste £15 together? my guys
are on nimrod with the golden swimming pool. The floor is sprung at the door. the Valium unusual. And we never stop whining.
That neither of us know what an open wound in his groin
leads onto the surface, or that
Soft communion; is: my room. Sister, you are into the eyes of the destroyer


Orion’s Edges and its in between. My body shook.
As in winter the hand is not genderful
Being a woman; It rises to the surface, Arriving as in summer
Wacked night – Ponds dry up – Snugging mud
I struggle to tell the difference between things which are wet and things which are cold. Blue and green -You floored it- Scent is:


And of course. We waver. Panting. the UK Subs and green parakeets.
Girl. You have really nice feet. The heating is More than words
Their Coursing. is a wolf and plots against me.
But now I am missing the party. Fuck you, fuck you all.
Fuck off you so called fisher men.
&process this. pinstripe and trotsky trotsky and twitching. twitching and the UK Subs.


I’ve been listening to-to the kingfishers too. Sister, my sister, The lark laughs at us all.
Something will turn up. Including the vibrations. Including the boiling air
in this bleak yawn of evening, we wonder, is it not a kind of madness to knock our bones together. From the nudes of French impressionists; your head following a gentle curve found your lips against it.
So I came home-To rise even-Be risen-Uneven to the fact-Of this very thing you are


I will play the swan and die in music. slobbered all over
it’s pretty man. As in Curtis dog-skull and her mud treader.
My guy pretty like a girl. And your mother can lean like that.
the snort of a man feeling possible. Neighbours in reverb and the collapse
Or graceful heave of little chests. the pigeons and the para present.
dogs keep it going. Senses counter to stars.

The signs . We have sealed this loop with repetition; Square with round corners. I turned my face fully to yours and kissed you on the cheek with my lips. ears all low and orange to the ground
Peppering the high. Her beauty is not such fucking love that
She learnt, She had learnt; My body
throughout the arrangement: My mouth was a horizon you would not rise to.


12:29 the thing Off kilter
thanks you. thanks you uneven. the albatross really do seem to love each other.
thinking about these relations in the wurlitzer feel of my neighbours breakfast.in my new threshold I stand at the refuted. LED hosting shine where our bodie fry. mugging one another.
Before the birthday party It is not really raining but the air is. which was day’s worth. which she asks me as the second thing.


I am performing CPR over the phone: her poses. Splashing Cold wine
How do you want them? Snug collaboration Make it a date
And it is. I know you are a strong swimmer. All our skyward eyes thrown hay wire – Back pocket – And you piggybacked on to that too
Dance upon the lido, we tend not to disappear entirely. Making maps upon the common, Could never really get this From you Negatives Scent


Buckling: (withheld Maximum of ocean
We gather; Feel it coming. the Planet Boy like planet girl like. In fox shit. sound common.
I also have two things which are more like stories but I’m not sure where to fit them in.
boys are morose. it’s like looking into a tropical fish tank. or gala bingos
wurlitzer. tooting unshaven as my mug is.
So I sit like Emin with cash between my thighs.

Drink drink up, It’s really you it’s really you. Ha; pleased with himself. And? Anyone. our friends like nearly in singularity over the wall in a shower of sparks. It’s ok. I will lay my body out for you. I don’t want the one you’ve – let our cheek bones knock together. from what is given to the colour Of
foreclosure the cold Snap turning to face ruffle these feathers simultaneously The cold and hyacinthine Air. Yet that It cannot be. All mythical saturn
of our saturday night


Off into the night Drunk on light shows. Petty crime and the potential. On the back of
grind. Stalking and bounding up hills will give you a reasonable enough knowledge of the currents. As if pulled from a grave.
So Thank you big. For the sound of a glass filling in the dark Don’t hurt me
no more.
So thank you big. The song said and I walked behind it.
So thank you big. To come – both sides – and drown in it.
To flick and then put it in to another

Natasha LaForce studied Art, at the Ruskin school of Fine Art, University of Oxford. Since graduating in 2010 she has lived and worked in London, developing a multi-disciplinary practice including; video, performance, screen printing and writing. Her writing has been published by Different skies as part of their ‘handbills’ project and she has performed at festivals and residencies including ‘Doune the Rabbit Hole’ (Stirling) and ‘DoReMi’ (Cumbria). Natasha’s recent exhibition ‘Smear Garden,’ at Dalston Curve garden was the culmination of a year long collaborative project exploring laughter, heartbreak and the obtuse. Natasha is also librarian for SET studios.

Tom Crompton is a poet from Lancashire living in London. Recently he’s been working on a double sided pamphlet (give over:provisions), which he can give you for free.

First published in 3:AM Magazine: Sunday, June 17th, 2018.