the metal taste of a barrel makes me reach for the sky
a longing so fine i can’t cut it.
not only me but what i feel
is redundant, more than you need
& worse, defunct. a pale
Self – unstrip(p)ed un-
glorified, on fire &
for the best, the greater
flayed middle aged w
no compunction yet
fully fucking lucid. blast
the horn, the
2nds 6ths demented
fourths to form the big Sound the big
f/off to music Mathematical stimuli.
the fire’s now
counter-intuitive but actual
& when you hold a bible & don’t read it
it’s worse than reading it
backward. sends a message, declares what’s
surplus to understanding Not knowing why the wind
blows & where from & where. you are not
my strongman. mine is handsome & learned & intelligent
& His will is
every fascist there ever was – even Julius Caesar
fails, delivers no sting, only hatred. death.
what does Paul say about this?
& John of Patmos –