white ink interfering

in The
Guiness Book of Cloud Chamber Glyphs
and Alphabet Soup Epithets

every bliss is qualified by bliss
and every slumber’s sombre

whether it’s the bikini edition or
dumped in cold dark matter
I like my models clothed a bit
assuming the density of the input tends
to infinity

the same goes for the
shocking experience of shock
something
has to be left to the imagination
prior to purchase, so

with stinging hands
I turn the snow pages
to see in depths gradually revealed below
shadows of ruined cathedrals
casbahs, stadia

curves
footprints
something perhaps has been dragged
from a car
these snow volumes

have no weight
just
the frontier dimensions
of hospital patients
splayed on white

I have no weight either I jettison
waste
I fly over plains
where refugees look up
to my merciless gaze