21 October 2025
28 October 2023
before a fall
on a walking holiday, no boiling oil, no screams,
past towering statues, potted palms, nonentities…
a king turns in mid-stride, thinking: why were those
food scraps and that jewellery buried together, hardly
neanderthal, but there must be a point, a smoking
metaphor, less than a landlord, more than a priest –
or a prince unrolling a missive, a scroll of freedom
while he dreams of abuse and slow steaks turned…
because he can think anything and anyone less
than a prince in this world has a mind infolded,
involuted, inflamed by the power in this world of
the dominant dominoes – of which i am one? but, hey,
i’m not sure of that, though I do like a sequence
of steps in some sort of direction – but down?