may 2022


…listen only to the opinions of stones

to dissertations rising from the sands

let the talking-heads go

let the blue tongues find their own peace

for once let your silence be explicit

because you are that expanding mania

that ruthless, pushy iconoclast

who sweeps aside all first-born stars

you are that other infinity

the unnerving quiet

that holds everything together

yet splits everything apart

the apocalypse in the palm of every hand

with no memory, no compassion

a struggling, terrifying bird

pushing at your clenched fingers

the nervous you, the silent you

watching the blue tongues rise from the sand

and when, finally, your fingers are forced open

all hope is swept aside…





…and now the megafauna, the old bull mastodons 

are again on the move

spearheads, columns

each overburdened with innocence

propaganda, zeal 

hurrah, hurrah

such are these tears of rust

such are these tears of rape 

the guttural bulls 

the human bulls

pushing souls back down into the ground 

heavy with innocence

this earth

this glorious earth

overcome with cunning 

with the dark zeal of those millions

who blast the ground into the clouds 

for such are these sperm gods

these prehistoric egos

on the move, yet again, to nowhere…




…such murky lines as these

such secretive beads of sweat

the shedding of my skin

down onto the page

this inky ecdysis

this thin existence

cicada me

viper me

sliding between the sounds

the universe guiding my fangs

the overbearing hunger

which fills the sky

this scent of prey

of verses never written

waiting to be found

such beads of sweat as these

the old me 

the new me

never written, never seen

a shadow always hiding in the air…