february 2019

 

 

                       (i)

 

...my womb is a place of clouds

of worry-beads, of charms

 

a place for the poet’s transient blood

and even this passage to the underworld, my throat

 

has now become a home for giants

for monolithic verses that dare not stumble

 

as language slides to a halt

and silence becomes the one innovation

 

that truly outstrips creation

this decisive love, this place

 

this troublesome, dark birth

of a world that prefers

 

to quietly eviscerate its poets

and yet no womb is monolithic

 

no charm unlocks the underworld

there is no verse still so potent

 

it can devour the mind

there are just these indiscriminate clouds

 

silently rising from the ground

the aftermath of omnipotence...

 

 

 

                        (ii)

 

...this page is an exit, a bridge, a crossing

and beyond is the land of the no-man’s soul

 

where music surges into the unknown

and each day a goddess rises with thunderbolts

 

assassinating the rich

in fact anyone who tries to bastardise sincerity

 

this transit, this fire in Aurora’s genome

that locks eternity to the bloodstream

 

thus finally wiping the earth of all deceit

this terrifying extradition of every man, woman and child

 

straight into the arms of the redeemer

this long overdue clearance

 

this precipice called pleasure

a discussion, a dialogue with mirrors

 

with crowds dressing themselves in stones

and yet every morning the faithful goddess rises

 

offering unlimited knowledge

as the only reason for which there is reason

 

but the world, the world stands mute

alone in a doorway

 

alone on a bridge...