living inside the drum /
means silence is never unnerving /
the ceiling is skin twitching /
we don’t have to breathe /
to make it vibrate /
those points are brought down from elsewhere /
oh a dulled bloom of light /
spreading over the head above /
(we strolled past ears decades ago) /
tremors are their own wind /
pushing hair away from your face /
open mouths thrumming /
those fleshy holes emptied /
shaped for some absent sign
thaw out that line /
that hits them every time /
dust off its unexpected twist /
of human limbs protesting /
their own existence /
slice and drip /
personable lubricant /
from a fleshy joint /
that often animates curb-level causes /
its articulation seizes predictably /
without the well paying oiled job /
lying in the pan each night /
anything will freeze left on the page /
found a foot under the city christmas tree /
never got past the festive red tape /
so much was already frozen /
before winter arrived /
that familiar community statement /
half-thought still hanging /
in the colourless air /
insulting spring
after the night rain /
the ice begins to melt in thin sunshine /
at a low angle like a warmed chisel /
prying under the morning’s surface /
notice rays already wrapping around the hand /
penetrating the veins, making them translucent /
with dark blue green blood /
some part of the body ends each sunday
I’ve walked like it snows /
an indistinct accumulation /
disappearing each year /
then pools spread indiscriminately /
across cities and woods /
that read no footprints /
on their surface /
just a detail of sky /
flowing past above necks and heads
gold can be eaten /
line the stomach with /
layers of gild /
brilliant gut, lead the way prosperous /
it’s the teeth that betray us /
fangs behind the smile /
a bite could be a song /
pressed directly into flesh /
everyone hides from the /
ice cream truck now /
winter is summer, freezing living pipes /
the heart cracks open /
always an empty organ by design / \
children line up /
against the wall
for their final year portraits /
trying to cover the holes /
already forming /
on their nameplates
sometimes, an empty cup /
lip stain heralding yesterday is here /
read vertically in the morning /
making new space between so and so /
the word drops /
enjoying its fall /
write at 90° in the afternoon /
cracking all the same necks /
new light for the vertebrae /
leaning west for a view /
speak under water in the evening /
see the shape of said escaping /
swimming up to burst a bright world
is what is something else? /
sunrise /
let it be /
be nothing before /
spread til all snaps /
counting stops /
one is gone /
every where disappears too /
a body indistinct /
once called such /
and the mind is red /
form lost from space /
unshaping the bind /
speak, inside or out, /
to place the planet again
that old extraterrestrial, Santa Claus, /
has invaded millions of homes /
smeared his alien DNA across dinner plates and glassware /
left plastic icons for the children’s worship /
as other-worldly ideals shaping their dreams and thoughts /
for a hidden purpose /
each one held to secrecy with the visitor /
a celestial covenant binding them to an unquestioning thrall /
count his fingers, three and a thumb /
distant world adaptation /
why has he come here? /
never fully revealing his presence /
only in a promised morning aftermath of artefacts /
embedding a children’s code of wish and uneven fulfilment /
implanting a prill of agitated memory /
directing them through life /
as they look back for the diminishing images /
of those morning revelations /
jovial exhale, his alien atmosphere /
taxing lungs to the first Christmas
that jar is broken /
in the dense bush /
north of Raith /
all the water inching away /
from a warm cup /
there are lists /
no one will read /
in war, the only commanding argument /
25,817 names originally given as luck /
all bitter poets know /
verse is a luxury and a necessity /
frivolous blood that should really be /
a basket of sharpened metal /
left in a schoolyard /
for the next generation /
to plant firmly
joy and pennies on the dollar /
thrown up into the midnight air /
let the choir blow up the children’s balloons /
voice or breath, we decide /
where the roads are built /
and what time the furnace kicks in /
a billionaire’s notebook up for auction /
the representatives say there is determined interest /
how will people get here? there are no drivers /
the notebook does not lie flat /
it’s spine not yet broken /
as the pennies fall, shout the bids /
dancing in place for an honorable mention /
the auction closes, the threshold exceeded /
packed cautiously for a private library /
where the secrets will be ingested /
for the solitary glow /
and a distant whisper /
“Whoever discovers the interpretation of these sayings will not taste death.”
winter does a day /
where mouths are open a little more /
the sun is driven down a little sooner /
the population slips on its assumptions a little later /
hunting in winter is easier /
the kill slides with less friction /
along snow and ice /
and through a forest /
to a warming garage /
eat what your bring down /
there are some who would explode /
whole subcontinents dropped in the gullet /
we’ll come back to this /
after the songs are sung /
and the candles pinched /
first the birth and the death /
over a long weekend /
recognizing the final supper