january 2022


…there is only one terror at the heart of humankind

only one indecipherable agony


that to become a god

we must first die a multitude of deaths


that to understand everything

we first must become everything


the universe incarnate

impregnated with magnitude


with these ever-tightening circles

that load absurdity high onto our backs


and push us out to walk the streets

to dream and weep in doorways


a swaggering, naked sack of varicose flesh

that calls itself divine


the first, agonising circle complete

the incarnate terror that overrides reason


that easily perfects the winds

the fashion, the barbarity, the idols


these mountains growing across our backs

their magnitude truly crushing…






…go, go run and headbutt the stones 

go kneel and pray into the cracks in the earth


your omens and spells, your conspiracies

come, spit them even deeper than before


your parallel lies for everything 

this, your tempting schizophrenia


for when they eat their own faeces 

even the dead will dance


so come, open your veins 

and watch as your parallel blood


runs contagion down into the cracks

of an unprepared world


come, open your skull 

and watch your demons as they piss on your brain


as they lick their faeces

and invite you to dance


however, notice the way they grin at you 

and how, with glee, they unwrap the unreal


tempting you, yet again, to step out 

to sing and dance even deeper than before…






…always, when I work, it is alone

at the very edge of a cliff


the only place where I am truly happy

for only here do I become synonymous


with this life’s blinding vertigo

synonymous even with death


because the precipice knows 

it knows and rises with stealth


yearning for sacrifice 

for those, like me, to plummet


into its blue dust

into these mists streaked with couplets


blank and foreboding

this one, blind place of sheer joy


where words become strangers

even holes in the air


this synonymous gift

an offering, a token


falling high above this world

threads of verses 


left to find themselves…






…define this droplet, this pin-point earth

and you will have a necklace of maybes


crows of dried mucus

stuck to your fingers


for it is only when we all share

the same insanity


that we dare call ourselves sane

and peeling away the skin from your feet


is enough to reveal

the tell-tale limits to your humanity


this talkative, loud coincidence

caught on the tip of a mere pin


minds like droplets

sanity stuck to our fingers


our necks draped in maybes

in the green blood of fear


this unnerving test of existence

hidden by a few thin layers of skin


and that old, contentious naming word

still waiting to be defined…