Wanted to do this hard-edged island in the city
could be Manhattan could be Berthillon
makers of fine wax masks to mood your seeming
this little language lobster in your trap
broken cage left empty on the sands
void your prisms soon o white man
a voice comes through the stovepipe listen
charcoal hisses at you beneath the ribeye listen
the blackbird explains it in the hedge
your fingernail on the mirror watches
we need more footnotes and fewer wheels
broken plaster statue still Mother of God.
O light no different from the night before
as plain as the beginning of all things
simple as hydrogen a one-piece light
the longest day on the smallest island sounds like life
terror in every sense rises from identity
pulchritudo voluptas fortitude
and give all things to everyone you meet
discard your enemies like old clothes etc.
teach a morality machinery aspires
to be one with you without myself
there will always be oligarchs be one or leave it alone
there is a broken branch a bird can sing on still.