Saturday, August 16, 2008

Commons 44 & 45 (plus note)

‘she got him up upon her back’
‘I intend here to drown you’
a stranger, perhaps
weirds had reckoned them -
his lily-white hands,
the only true thing
is what is contained
- ballads of irrelevance -
a specific utterance
a raised glass
a perpetual shriek
alight inside his metal throat:
ok, who are they?
a speech, perhaps?

& then we were letters
thinking cities, even
varied, fierce & gold
but swallowed by events
in rainfall, its tides
& police were talking
in social cheap wine
whose life was ludic
with biting, swallowed
by yuppie reveries,
justice, for example
& simpering passion,
a black & burning pit
half-price in woolworths

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