hurled relieved on hurling

but why would i
talk about that
attraction unless
i was pimping it to you
as a secret so well-savoured
much better felt than spoken of
why would i make it
a crossword puzzle for myself
and be consumed in thinking up
words to fit for it is no mystery
to me but it is no great strength
neither for all that i still
chase after the mantle
of the uncrowned king of lovers
i seek words of a dark charm



not the devotee
id rather be darth vader
and control and summon
at will and summarily
undo the order of creation
i have no piety and
would rather pity than
be pitied instead of
a driver i would rather
be an engine with
a mind of its own
incoherent and never
expected to answer
where i go



the benchmark for hollow passages
is the smell of pigeonshit
in old country houses or
the few still fighting in the city
as birds go missing from the skies
the lament of hyenas and jackals
rends the air and the odd dirge
sung in the dead of the night
becomes a part of that chorus
and is like nothing in the morning