An old friend, through a ginger pulse

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.