no. 9...breathe again, till sudden, cessation -no, gallowed by the fever of it, the drought of it, ask of it again, no, not known, all said/ begun, with what flourish it was held, step beyond, nothing there, never was, not the how nor the when or why, eviscerated it might be said, till what, how and ever, begin, stop/ start, cleft alone, wailing of the drifting shadows, no recourse, headless, alack, no, nothing, shape gestural or formless, ashen light, the half-scar of it, blinded still not known, no not ever, (retracing again), I’ll leave or I’ll stay…grasses knee high and the bone revealed through the wound like a slashed sneer, absence of tears, of course, dead now, hollow shun, hollow shunt of breaking lapse what from which the sneer, the hollow, the distance furthering, all said there was ever nothing, till what, what next, lapse and then…raking through the skull the fever like a talon light, no force, breaking still from what line, haven, and then from what foraging, stealing out of the silence, dread birthed like a still blue sky, and the cupped hands they cup fresh blood mixed with ash and a symphonium of the dead man’s advocacy, bloodless eyes reflected there, no thought, erased, time erased, knuckled to ransom, slice again, laughter again, collapsing spasm, breath again -breathe, cylindrical walls they rotate out of which the dead light shimmers, seeks to strike the marrow, I cannot, no, haven of flesh spilled foreign like a deserted shore, dreaming of the caress of the caress of the ocean to erase the footprints, else or not, stung, bitten kicked and punch drunk, not a word, not a murmur, stammering all the while, my dream my death my sun my pulse, the lay of the land, glide, glide, web spun, cloudust of…I’ll know I’ll not know, given the advance, working the flesh, always the same, never the same, spill the shit of dreaming, of ice, I vomit laughter lings, deft pageantries still-born in a heartless scope of atrophy, break once more and be done, I’ll go, breathe again, stammer and pulse and the mocking itch, the stitch womb of it, the burn, the scald, dead summers of waste and wanton, filling the bloodless eyes with light that was never wanted, not once, breath again -breathe, the less and less, ever erasing, with what ease, drifting, drifting from far unto I’ll leave or I’ll stay, no, not a maggot’s chance, stone in the eye’s reaching fathom, as if one were being transported yet never having left the dusts of that final room alone, cigarette smoke I-will greased, hissing upwardly, step non-step, stepping forth or back without an ounce, not a taste, licking dried blood from peeling painted walls, exiled by this way or that, roots to rend to fertile nothingness, well call cards, shimmer, shed the skin of the endless night, known for the never once breathed, breath -breathe again, no, stop/ cease, a mimicry this or that, call it being, spat out, the jugular severed, the swallowed tongue of ice, paralysed knowing, steam, lock-held, at the beginning of it, what less to know, pare away, (I’ll know), nowhere to from out of the searching dark, the hands cold, body in raptures, it begins, it ends, stop breathing…
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