august 2022

 

                              (i)

 

…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…