october 2021




...listen to their voices

the exterminating angels


listen as they replace

as they exchange


one stunning darkness with another

for theirs is the language of wings


of human fat

of soap


of monolithic narratives

their voices unable to be voices


their purple, black wings beating the air

sweeping away the ash


these heaps of severed tongues

these promises of some sterile transcendence


all lies and more lies among so many

that pass like wounds


through one face to the next

these angels exchanging monoliths


snacking on what’s left of prophecy

wiping from their mouths the remains of justice...





...if all the mirrors of the earth are now in pieces 

what is there left to shatter but ourselves


our glass, tulip hearts

our crystalline eyes


have they not shaped the centre of every thought

coated every seed with vows


with instantaneous wisdom 

which assumed that it, and it alone


was in control of nothingness

whereas it is exactly this


which has always been in control of wisdom 

aligning one word together with the next


of how we came to be 

this smithereen species


this cardiac species 

always negotiating with mirrors


with pits of frozen blood

what more then is there left to say


when everywhere 

is at the centre of every word...








...we are the stones of empires yet to be

the terror of sonnets not yet written


we are these bags of terminated hearts

spilling onto the streets


extracting one-by-one 

the tiny, crimson teeth


this entrance to a hell that never stops 

this vivacious pull of gravity


its morals lurking between the lines 

these beads, these necklaces


strewn at the poet’s feet

this celebration of art


as some outright exposure to death

an accolade no-one can even recognise


ineffaceable, eager 

such bags of stones


such hearts as these 

left crawling over the poet’s feet


spilling out onto the streets 

this transfiguration of freedom into guilt...