Tuesday, 19 November 2013


...blade-shock-ice till follow on from/ dense meat of the given shadow or the blend of steel till rupture blind what of the mock the spurious devout/ spitting grasp of purposeless designs/ the machinations of/ the bleed of tears/ nothing next to follow on from given the irreducible silence/ walls taut the circumnavigation of breathe/ brea-thing else from out of wound of the redressed lack/ the denude of what has or has not/ through the skin taut no edge merely the edge to follow on from/ some distance yet to trace these nowhere zones/ calling yet never answering as if to say what cannot/ the sharded glass of utterances and the bind of frozen wastes/ time over and again the fucked cadaver laying in the snow surrounded by children/ the senses collapse into the balm of opiate smoke and the dreaming-else/ trace of benign liquid no shadows left to trace upon the walls merely the photographic memory of all that was ever finalised/ stillness in the parched throat/ the oxygen of having birthed desire through death/ hammering forth unto where there is no progress/ from step non-step unto the next and then returning/ this is the dead land this is cactus land/ the echoes vibrate from out of nowhere/ all collected through the toothen wrench in the spinal crack/ bone snap and the marrow’s emptily appeal/ the taste/ blood drenched the caked leaves in the gutter are covered in snow/ not a trace of anything except the distant echoes/ the reverberations/ the hollowness of walking alone through the sediment of death/ the words whispered unto self what self the words whispered unto/ till nothing else/ not  hand to trace the flesh/ the cool calmness of intent crawls the interior walls of the skull/ the machinations of ever-searching/ it has followed it will not claim nor reclamation be/ dense light/ hard ash/ glint of shard scraps or rusted ambience/ see the absence of flowerings/ the blossoming of the blood through the eyes of the teeth/ here a-blind there a-blind/ (we all choke upon the stagnation of)/ as if to/ calling yes yet never echoing/ soundless soundless waste and the dreaming of non-being/ closed the wounds the scars that redeem do not redeem/ sedimentary airs and the bound skull the design by which there was/ once/ yet not in this lifetime or…/ all passage is futile to the circuitry/ fingers gnawed/ acclimatised it is said/ bone bite or perhaps the jugular itch/ the eyes are there there is no-one home/ traces of deliria as if to murmur/ all the while the flesh-meat cost of it/ the stricken breath of it submerged in shit/ no/ no quarter/ to (un)touch the depths of void ever-silencing…

1 comment:

  1. This is an amazing body of work Michael and you certainly have many works published/I liked the Luca salute you caught the style of his thinking without losing the uniqueness of yr own style/You certainly have a excellent page and soon I will get back to read it all/Thanks for yr friendship over the year and holidays soon only you and me have to keep working/You must stay in the public eye or they forget you/I have found that while editing my poems which are due in a week I have not much time to post and my emails have dropped from three pages to half a page/Oh yeah well thats the game/Regards and affection Lee Kwo


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From "In Damage Seasons", published 2013 by Oneiros Books

#1- through lock of detritus acclimatised to the fallen lung’s parameters there’ll be to drive the coffin head with nails birthing the...