An old friend, through a ginger pulse
Hums nacreous the negations of verse
Plundering music from clouds into canals,
The still-sac robe forecasts a script to bone
(Angels yank you over their concreted meat)
While dressing bareness to the portrait\'s noose;
Bronzing straws for a maidens engulfed sun,
An eclipse\'s shaft sucks syllables from tides.
Behind the deer-eye cell knotting genesis
Oviparous insects engrave corpses on dried stone
Ribbing spines to a yolk\'s molten silk,
Ancient birds remember their shelves in phones,
Bridges slug across horizons drenched in harbours
Overflowing with plastic from the watered skull;
Dull projections rust outwards from empty sockets,
Hiding Cadaver hay, skulls breach and harden to dust.
Atomic whirlpools perform decay through inverted apache-shells.
Child actors soften a worm\'s hill under soil-bleached feet,
Throats sticky in petrol strangle frames,
The expected prosaic oblivion returns
Electrifying rubber to life
For ocean\'s sieved by the wing;
The heaven waits in the dissatisfaction of a hunter,
Knowing only dried leaves reflecting his snares.
The mercury jug is stale and luke-warm
Beside the heat-iron window-plane
Cracking rain on melted glass,
Chestones pulp through blood-tight tracks,
Digits set themselves natural concealment
For entrails burning in the gut;
The throbbing drummer boy drops like a fly,
The tired understudy whitens his claps with chalk.
Hour-glass saints turn rainbows into road signs,
Infants rocking in rubble cots drain blue from the sky,
Mountains crumple to prunes, each one gasps,
An old friend, through a ginger pulse
Vibrating as the coil on the tongue,
Begs for his teeth to be wiped and cracked;
This is the archaic virtue plastered on the sun,
The value burying phosphorous shapes to compost.