august 2019





...strange isn’t it, I seem to spend each day

just waiting to breathe


a clot of blood

just waiting to make my way downstream


to those inexorable treasures and exits

that pierce the universe


it’s not that I don’t love life

it’s just that I love the oppression


the weight of infinity more

it sits, as ever, on my chest


tightening its threads

binding its love


a simple, happy blood clot

poking gerunds into my stomach


making its way downstream

to kill perception


and leave the universe childless

a mass of countless stones


trying desperately to breathe

to cut through the threads


of this love of endless captivity...






...every thought is now a gamble

a thing almost forbidden


a mirage, a ghost

a risk of seas and oceans


returning as human tears

this progression of unflinching genius


with its manifestations of certainty

its way of moving aside the viscera


to get at the truth

but chance still maketh the man


and man is still throwing his smiles at the walls

still besotted by citadels


by probabilities far beyond his reach

such towers, such spiralling thoughts


they poke out through the watery surface

disavowing promises


this progression of human tears

these bewitched oceans and seas


that are forbidden to exist

for such ideas and such hopes


are the wounds of revolution...