august 2022




…what are these unearthly, underground choirs

that shriek from grids in the street


turning hearts into solid bone

and words into drool


just what do they want

with these their terrifying thresholds


it makes no sense

gutters do not prophesy


drains do not recite

and yes, every line of every verse


is in itself a vein

a stream of thickened blood


that slowly disappears into the ground

so why then, should this loathsom magic


this sing-song apocalypse

now rise and chorus


from the very pores of the earth

yes, bones speak and flesh spins


but this emerging, dark cacophony

is right here beneath my feet


my tongue, my heart…