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THE TENANTS

barrel scraper

the tenants, blown in by an acrid wind

their eyes/appetites congenial to the locust 

self-centredness fashions itself into blindness

Their activity achieves everything

synonymous with barrenness

The host/parasite differential, oblique

another day, a thousand conniptions

landscaper

The oceans pine 

to spew their secrets

and each manmade tower begs

to crumble into them

 

How long must everything 

both wait and continue

How long until we hear the rocks 

knit their groans with ours

 

The axe will be sharpened

with perfection

The uprooting will be complete

 

Patience, My child 

friend of prostitutes

my face was made of maggots

my house was made of maggots 

every square inch

living, burning garbage 

 

recklessly You came to Gehenna

never-ending scarlet 

cauterised as You bled

one drop

washed everything away

 

You rebuild

using only

the costliest wood

the most beautiful fragrance 

a drought for the spirit

in the marshland

where your half-life dragged you

God is there

his hands and feet are brutalised 

 

having knit you together

before you unravelled and bedewed 

like a mattress of straw

every living thing is held 

accountable 

a dragnet for the body 

for a cup of cold water

the deathbed spaceman is ready

to reveal locations 

and confess

 

the crucible never was washed 

the cardboard was re-used

the hypnotist had a second job 

death stalked everything with breath  

these bedsores are older than you  

bag overseer

I know the warden

He dines with captains

fattened from banquets

then feeds me stale bread

 

when friends fail

to help him walk 

he declines to a crawl 

careful not to wake the dead

 

miles, perhaps years

from water

he knows things

he will never tell

 

pretending to be tireless

sleep evades him

he yearns to remove his flesh at night

hang it over a rail

unbind him from the residue and spores 

bag overseer

I know the warden

He dines with captains

fattened from banquets

then feeds me stale bread

 

when friends fail

to help him walk 

he declines to a crawl 

careful not to wake the dead

 

miles, perhaps years

from water

he knows things

he will never tell

 

pretending to be tireless

sleep evades him

he yearns to remove his flesh at night

hang it over a rail

unbind him from the residue and spores 

imposter experience 

we veered to the body

in the shallows 

a signal penetrating sleep

it is dead so we take it on board 

we are under control

 

aberrant light 

full of shadow and turning 

fragments us

we throw our treasure overboard

to make space for more water

 

we do everything barely communicating 

the course alters

no longer are we manned 

water becomes the vessel

lathe-turner

I’m a defector 

come hunt me downriver 

if you put a sword to my neck

make sure it’s properly severed 

 

otherwise I will be the beacon 

guiding kings to their caves

drawing others out 

to replenish the graves 

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