may 2022




…listen only to the opinions of stones

to dissertations rising from the sands


let the talking-heads go

let the blue tongues find their own peace


for once let your silence be explicit

because you are that expanding mania


that ruthless, pushy iconoclast

who sweeps aside all first-born stars


you are that other infinity

the unnerving quiet


that holds everything together

yet splits everything apart


the apocalypse in the palm of every hand

with no memory, no compassion


a struggling, terrifying bird

pushing at your clenched fingers


the nervous you, the silent you

watching the blue tongues rise from the sand


and when, finally, your fingers are forced open

all hope is swept aside…






…and now the megafauna, the old bull mastodons 

are again on the move


spearheads, columns

each overburdened with innocence


propaganda, zeal 

hurrah, hurrah


such are these tears of rust

such are these tears of rape 


the guttural bulls 

the human bulls


pushing souls back down into the ground 

heavy with innocence


this earth

this glorious earth


overcome with cunning 

with the dark zeal of those millions


who blast the ground into the clouds 

for such are these sperm gods


these prehistoric egos

on the move, yet again, to nowhere…






…such murky lines as these

such secretive beads of sweat


the shedding of my skin

down onto the page


this inky ecdysis

this thin existence


cicada me

viper me


sliding between the sounds

the universe guiding my fangs


the overbearing hunger

which fills the sky


this scent of prey

of verses never written


waiting to be found

such beads of sweat as these


the old me 

the new me


never written, never seen

a shadow always hiding in the air…