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 below
shadows of ruined cathedrals
casbahs, stadia
curves
footprints
something perhaps dragged
from a car
the snow volumes
have no weight
just
frontier dimensions
they’re hospital patients
splayed in white
while I have no weight either
because I jettison waste.
as I fly over plains the
refugees look up
to my merciless gaze