1. sleepless thirty days:

By | 14 December 2009

there was a fork sticking out of my orange
wires and random messaging
the language of television
and the synaptic schizophrenic snufflings of streetlights
where crows in bad taste laugh at death
and electric eels writhe in delight
But overlapping, overlapping, overlapping until there is only this.
Lines following what’s finished, not getting the hint –
my anxious heart is beating out a rhythm of concern
telephone poles and telephone poles and telephone poles
Neon lights pulsate penetrate my spine
which collapses under images devoid of ancient story
where once a child fathered the human
now the rain very slowly tears down the walls
and the comet pacifies desire
sold on as a ring-pull can of bully beef
bully beef, bully beef and beef jerky like
some guy with red orange eyes that haven’t closed, no, not for thirty
nights days moments
stranded on a logjam of jangling neon striations
reality quivers, maelstrom hustles and bustles under blinking,
winking lights
lights winking, blinking, slow lights, quick lights, low lights, high lights,
the Errol in him drinking, thinking blow nights, slick tights, ho bites,
fly delights
drunk never there, floods of drool falling
so i took a stab at a pear and said brutus, this isn’t right
wrong then, he said, and so what –
we were just method actors in
the fallen branch of life, craving
nectar and the slow honey of the hive
then the 30 days of sleep, which after 30 days, left me sleepless
standing, planting three matches in a box of soil
I lit one and told the other two, “this is what happens when…
as casca on stage you stab your caesar, stab his back,
     stab his chest, stab his groin, stab his lychee soft eyes

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