One heatwave day he throws me a sack/marked RetSenAdUn …

By | 14 December 2009

One heatwave day he throws me a sack/marked RetSenAdUn …
which i unsurprisingly discombobulated
threw back
next time ask before you heave your god-sent
thunderbolts — Atli’s constant war with Loki’s beasts — now Skiðblaðnir’s
ditched for some shallow skip, Harold Hard Counsel’s legacy
sweeping bleached forests
— cos I’ve seen it all before and won’t
be drawn
I dream a dream within a dream.
By Bukowski’s beard I will not what I will not.
I drops it into the yawning crack outside the swimming pool
Trees hum the portents; sorry Dad,
I will mourn my brothers
gone into that dark school
where, of late, slow monsters come,
their breath like coca cola
beyond the black stump
where nothing thrives but the wasted –
dash those monsters and be damned all cretins of the RetSenAdUn…
with torch and pitchfork burn the abberant
faux-couriers on their sweating demon-cycles who dare intercept
us, the couriers, the gainsayers,
the modern visigoths, (naysayers of the future)
wherever they may reside
and in Regensburg, we took a turn about the stable
which turned, and turned about us, in turn
huh, huh, huh, huh, huh, like a butterfly
and stings like a beeeeeeeeee
I beat the flames, watch the letters blacken, fall away in thready patches,
then fling the rest to sate the flames and flee.
Spit on hot irony – it will sizzle hiss and spat sear on the flame of satire
to choose A). Death by asphyxiation

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