mumbo
poppycock it was a war every
wo-man-child-foetus of us committed
to the earth hereafter
commuted
to bombgasm
enucleated
faces / blast / torn
flesh stretched into
terror then
nothingness and
we’re the lucky ones
invisibled
our end-of-history condensed into mustard reek scream
cut short / silence
wo-man-child-foetus of us committed
to the earth hereafter
commuted
to bombgasm
enucleated
faces / blast / torn
flesh stretched into
terror then
nothingness and
we’re the lucky ones
invisibled
our end-of-history condensed into mustard reek scream
cut short / silence
and, turning the page, another image
(familiar?)
of white words in white books in a (you guessed it) white library
that’s neither that hand-of-my-conscience-finally-dealt
nor a sacrament of negative grace the sorcery of the air
notwithstanding
all you can do is turn up the volume
go on
loud as daylight blaring over the earth’s last
beating heart