september 2022




…are you really still here among us

swilling out your mouth with rat’s blood


scrolling the apps

and swallowing children


you, with your icy semen

and your obscene, blue nipples


are you really still reading entrails

for links that conspire


for omens that twist the colon

and those acolytes who deceive


whose souls are made of clay

this life’s inaudible scream


yes, they are still here

but now as clairvoyant bulls


fondling their bitcoins

here amongst us


still kissing haemorrhoids

rolling dice and cutting veins


this e-paradise

this insanity made of clay…




…and yet the puzzle still remains

these lyrics, these births that no-one can hear


these shadows on the other side of language

reflections that fade to infinity


taunting existence

with multitudes of anemones


littering the air

this gorgeous, unbroken soul of the sky


far behind the eyes

the dark, black sapphires


always on the verge of light

a shadow-play that lives


far beyond the reach of perception

thus do the windflowers desecrate


taunting the universe

with their esoteric madness


a myth no eye can see

a beauty none can break


thus always the mystery wins

this nativity just out of reach…






…today, the solar winds spin through my body 

wrapping me in some unearthly tiredness


a monumental fatigue 

that kneels and begs the darkness for rest


me and my thousands of years 

without sleep


me and my homeless atoms 

with no reason to exist


for when I die, is it not obvious 

the cosmos too must die


that the winds will be full of seed 

yet have no earth to fall on


and although the rocks listen 

and the sun listens


mortality will remain in my blood 

spinning its exhausting script


this unearthly weight 

that kneels and begs for rest


me and my thousand obsessions

me and my airborne seeds…






…how many children do we have left

how many trees


there are, of course, skies and seas

maybe even a handful of tomorrows


but every last grain of time

has now vanished


into the unconscionable enormity

of what we have done


life has slipped through our hands

a delphic soul


a paper soul

children blown out to sea like rags


how many do you think we have left

how many trees


these glowing winds

these stinking beaches


stepping over handfuls of so many rags

memories falling apart in the waves


this paper soul

this delphic soul


calling the ocean to come

and seize this hopeless enormity of our tomorrow…