Street View – Batman’s Hill, March 2014

By | 1 June 2014

Intruders in the house.
We are walking up a river.

We walk quietly.
No more social esteem and prestige.
The river winds on.

With my eyes closed I would lose
consciousness pending further research.
The river. We were walking upstream.

Enough of that has been said.
It feels like my wide mouth eyes again.
It feels like my wide mouth eyes.
But only if I could keep my innocent heart.

In the insensible –
run out of money, run out of love.
In the distracted breath –
buttress, flakes, torsion.
Weirder than weirdland man.
Have braggart. Have stew.

Carve that up and get me out
you is paranoid
just ahah,
down with the scalpel scissors and simple cleaver
just ahah,
operating a real machine.

How carnivorous we get
in glad happy nature
we are all
we are all
bare? spare? forked?
Sensationally bodied, marketed and sheer?
More or less terrific?
How carnivorous we get
and you.

Worth the hungry miles
worth the burning and
the crowding season. Worth
the virtuous galloping on
the ugliness and guts.
Worth how it gets.

There are so many of us in the world.
And all of us so sick.
Me speaking personally I love the clean dementia
and perhaps the soul divided
walking around and yet still on fire
walking round then running up the street.

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