from September 12
13: March 10
Burn friendlies on the wreck of human
terror the body of the people O!
Erato! scorched by the blaze of blue-on-blue
Eye witness. The same railway station. We.
Search out the others' errant gunshots
Enchanting for democracy O! Muse you wing it
for shepherds sporting iambic lambs on
the platform so enthralled by Love bo-
peeping his fluttery sonnet in Venus' softest target I
miss my earthly transport, and survive. No
golden glove thrusts from the dust. Erratum
for Erato: Nobody drops into the same
device twice. Human error. Petrified watch. Our
sponge of blood drips into the same device forever
WHO OWNS YOUR FACE? IT FLESHES
ON ALL OUTWARD EYES SIZING YOU
SONNET X PULLED OUT BETWEEN THE STOPS,
LABIALS IN THE LABYRINTH: ORPHIC RESONANCE
AROUND THE RINGING TUBE, OR FICKLE ERATO
TICKLING THE LOVESTICK POCKET
REFERENCE TO X IS A REFERENCE TO THE SUBJECT
MATTER OF THIS POEM. X, TRUE AT THE TIME
OF PUBLISHING, HAS NOT GIVEN PERMISSION. UP.
ESCAPE FROM THIS SMOULDERING FACT. TURN
AGAIN SO IT MIGHT SMILE BACK AND NOT BOIL DOWN TO
A POLLUTED POOL OF TABLOID MYTH, OR RISE AS
A PILLAR OF SMITHEREENS SUCKED BY GERMS.
X PLAYS IN YOUR EYES, SMARTING
Every dark is tighter, as each prescriptive
joy is held in check: precipitous release
without charge. Domestic advert for a bidet a long
mirror a civilisation. Just look at yourself
Watch what you're doing a rule with no game
in the front room you're on your back on
your own behind these friendly lines' prosthetic whine.
You empty yourself in a way to make you
you, and catch her foiling stare as you nebulate
Even now you unspeak a tongue
holed up in history's traffic, to assemble
grid-locked love bits at her tightening lips
Sex selving a sonnet for her for making
love is making love is making love is
A collection-source lights up the
heights of post-humanism and queue-
jumps the love-raft in survivalist fury!
Extinction, at whoever's hand, guarantees.
It can deify can worship but can never love
Total death affords the only access. Infidel
conscripts that final day will be spent
to coerce eternity. If paradise
were to persist without earth
what matter. Ab-
solute dis-incarnation redemption refutes
the one true purity is deletion a white
sheet for the lover's face don't look into
those eyes level humanity in your selves