September 2015

nature lover
with the windows closed
the screensaver
 

copulanded genitivals

orgaseismic knee-tremblor

climacteric change

À rebours
old fossils heaped up
on hot coals
dark energy
summing it all up
the name grasped at
everything!
an atheorist
strings it along
there! hear it!
line breaks voicing the void
within me
petal fall
I too am becoming
not being
without refuge
the other you are
is still me
for H. Gene Murtha (4th September)
 
final straw
we draw the dark side
of the moon

a free-floating comma eats roots and leaves

seminal night . . .
salmon thrash upriver
by the stars
eluding the names
they bear
my ancestors' stars
undercover 
of paper-mâché dreams
of family
undercover 
paper-mâché dreams
of belonging
your silence
after the universe
no longer could
speak memory!
the hush of first love
awaits your words
tower-fall—
big brother seizes
his cue
words of war . . .
a prayer wheel 
stages
a revolution

recalling 9/11, drone bombings, Viet Nam, Hiroshima, Pukerangiora .........

 
dead silence . . .
and still the circus
goes on
spring gloom . . .
the seeds once sown
still to die
(for Alan Summers on his birthday)
 
on waking
a candlelit drama
centre-stage
at wits' end
descendants of our now 
sift through debris
windowed moon:
with two of everything
the pauper's thief
homeless sky—
a shore-borne child dies
to free will
 
crescent moon—
intelligence sources
swap kill lists
the clarity!
dawn awakening
a nick in time
avant-garde dogs my words neither gnawed back to bare bones

post-literate decapitalation of conSumerian scripts