october 2020






...squeeze the world’s heart overmuch

and that ululating zero


that dusty face of the void

will become forever mute


and perceptive death will

as it always has


turn and gloat in silence

the earth’s soul firmly between its teeth


watching, squeezing

the scented hominid


as it again cossets itself for war

the ululations piercing


the preparations surgical

and yet the signs are so easy to miss


that moment of abandon, for example

when even the dust seems erotic


when that mewing of a new-born child

is really the cry of the universe


a cry that should open the void

not lament its passing...






...they are the ones whose words

fossilise in mid-air


whose rituals include

the swallowing of a stranger’s tongue


they are the disparaged ones

the tattooed ones


the raw, fast-fed ones

who pull trees from their eyes


extracting iron from tears

whose only goal is to grow genitals


inside the brain

the place of smart erections


that pull in the passing crowds

thus sending the vitreous light


the refractionated truth

ever deeper into the steel men, the ammonite men


who crush and swallow

the teeth of strangers


but where, where are those words

those shibboleths that would make the marrow bleed...






...just what are you really chasing

is it the meteor of your own pain


the streak of fire across your back

or is it the child you were


who seems now to hold the hand

of the methuselah you have become


or perhaps it is the vanity you seek

of your own dissolution


these indictments that strap you to the rocks

that tip your insane blood back into the rivers


for after all your memories are just molecules

that once belonged to a fish


to that spinning ego

they once called a galaxy


so tell me

if rage cannot appease rage


what then is the point of capturing

what it is you chase


tell me please

before the meteor strikes...