notes after some violent dreams
It isn't so I have more limbs than I ought
or fall head-about-heels against a street
red as a charnel-house – it isn't so I pleaded
and scurried from my death –
the path like a deep vein luminous--
and danger a great-toothed ape
hurls its body at speed –
that murderess who wed a snake
spread bones where she went pulled grapes
and howled harder
than the roused-up thunder--
old rite-haunting doggerel,
warm in an insensate warm machine...
all these dreams scour my windows white against the morning
where new rain falls soft as shells on muted news
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