INCLUDE ME IN

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INCLUDE ME
IN

I don’t know
if I would be
any good
at genocide

I do hate
but probably
nothing like
enough

to kill women
to kill kids
all with the vivid
imagination to believe
these are vermin
rats and cockroaches
an infestation
plague upon
our social being

no I have imagination
but it is not that
good
there is still this huge
fatal discrepancy, I call
it metaphor
between what I write
and what I see

and I don’t care how sacred it is
how much God wills it, or
how Holy
when you wield
your butcher’s knives
I am not cut out for it

that pile of offensive, wished-away humanity
yes that scruffy lot — include me in

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THE STAR

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THE STAR

a star appeared
in my brain

in removed the guilt
burnt away
the shame

its intensity threw me
there was nothing I could say

for who on Earth might believe
the star in my brain?

WAITING IN VAIN

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WAITING IN VAIN
(FOR THOSE
SAPIR-WHORF
ALIENS)

not to be pedantic
but Big Bang no longer
poses itself
under
mark of
the
question
(perhaps
in later times
in may well
return
ask
another one)

but something’s in the air
there’s a breeze Chaos
bounded
bracket everything you
have read, everything
your parents
told you
old stories, new
stories they’re
all
boomeranging back

so it doesn’t matter how
you letter, go for
a voice-raise
with pointy exclamation!

It’s back to the belly
of the beast, labyrinth
where was this thing
first growled
that has grown
into language

thing tough on the lips, teeth
and jaw yet
so fragile of concept
(should Sapir-Whorf aliens threaten
to magically materialize,
suddenly upend

renumber with
abandon, punctuate everything backwards
let conclusion
prove premise
as
play
total havoc
with tense).

STEVIE DOWN HERE

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STEVIE DOWN HERE

little Stevie scared out of his wits
nightmare of a clown who
rips into kids
pets back
from the dead
writer dad gone mad
after his wife
and son
(so many
questions to
axe them)

meanwhile
another writer is
being saved by
his “biggest fan”
and that
big red balloon
will also
expand

burst bloodily
whilst this one
floats up
of the
page

off the screen, this
screen and

into your mind’s eye
floats up
floats down
as they all

appear to

and so it is
with this one
behind you
right now

your wake up call
telling what to write, how
to say

all this well meant
in the worst
possible way

TO SOME FABLED STATE

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TO SOME FABLED STATE

“What is an ocean
but a multitude of drops?”
“Cloud Atlas”

they say
reading
writing poetry
rewires
your brain

not that there
are any actual wires

but that
relay station of
twisted cables

might turn
Tesla

become a sparking, charging, firing
ocean of electrical iridescence
a plasma quantum
conduit to
some
fabled state

DARKNESS APPERTAINS

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DARKNESS APPERTAINS

darkness appertains
it is still stapled
to the very first page
hitching a ride on
Einstein’s light-beam
to the first “let be”

letting not a single
black hole singularity
deflect that
trajectory
to infinity

and so
snake-like but
not quite it
punctuates the rest

adding the slithery vital
subtext

without which
no sense

THIS THING THAT JOINS US

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THIS THING
THAT JOINS US

were we
joined at the hip

in the Garden of
Eden together
(and if so
who was
the Snake)?

did our lives cross
in this universe and
so many others
which made us
brother/sister, rivals,
antagonists, friends,
enemies and,
of course, lovers

and here we are
after all this time

when it all
began we
must have been
close, must
have been together

your stuff (the cosmic dust
of which you
are made) and
my stuff

split and scattered, created
out of that nothing
before everything we
struggle to
understand

just as
this connection, this thing
that joins us

impossible
to understand

WEATHER REPORT

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WEATHER REPORT

seems pretty pointless
commenting on the weather

those old British habits stripped
of every rationality

but still the same, gray old sea
washing these shores
yet
more dividing than
uniting

the warmth from the Caribbean it streams
failing to thaw the ice, cool the steam
bring that
Ancient temperate understanding
to (I would have
once called it “our”) the
national being

Oh albatross winging it
here on your great migration

give us a miss
yes, inflicting great self injury that
surely you, only you
could believe

flap flap your great effortless wings
soar up high and East, North, South, West
whatever direction
will take you away
from this
blighted nation, led
by living dead, to
its thousand cut death
exquisite Karma of
apt annihilation