Saturday, 20 August 2011


ghosts .. evidenced
to put out stars
for the pity of
nothing is random
is random randomly ..

put to work
i awoke near a lighthouse
chill salty lips
i awoke near an abattoir

if you gaze on this paper
you will see how language
could never have begun
therefore it is reasonable
to be mad

a warm afternoon
you’ll say your name
bees’ll buzz on your knuckles
suck the tears from your lashes
graze this paper with their stings

“Could we really arrive at a knowledge of poetry by studying the saliva of dogs? The metallic hydrogen sea is tens of thousands of miles deep.” Sean Bonney. ‘Letter on Riots and Doubt’

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