CARNAGE (AGAIN)
driving to the blood bank
to make a full
deposit
though words are
my currency
I am universal donor
for my sins, everybody-
compliant O-neg
want to be clear (though hit
a bug l storm with my wind-shield
causing
so much green carnage
I could barely see)
Ah, yes, “carnage”, is that
not a homonym?, you give me
a start by asking —
my unconscious thrown for
a second into red alert
until
it’s just a trope, a figure of
speech, the penchant for
punning you
be questioning
we often slip into a dark verbal place
forgetting an analogy is
nothing more than analogy
as base-line
a comparison you will see,
nothing to do with
North or South or West or East
in your love
preference, or proclivities
Oh the play of the signifier
never going to still for me
until I am as
past-
tense as Derrida, passé as all
those who for so much time
persuaded themselves
to contrive
to imagine
words are the conduit
words
the pipe
and not the blood and flesh
and bone and every drip and
drop and
spark and
photo of
our
being
on the way to donate blood
need to clean my windscreen
just saying
just open
my mouth and its
carnage again