Just hauling all these corpses into us
well anyway I used to think that looking
was quite a lot like fucking like
oh, I didn’t mind things drilled through to my optic nerve
with fingernails to spurt but the birds are now out here
and tomorrow is the hottest day ever they’re saying
and they have those little quick hollow bodies don’t they,
flying unknowing they’re dead and turning eyes necrophile
like the trees do, the streams and whales &c.
in the water glittering more salinated
under maybe one-to-seven specific men with knives
unseen but still with knives and still living killing
the little quick hollow bodies we’re sharing and binding
one day together in toothed or eyed response
drawing new things to penetrate our jellies I guess, I hope
was quite a lot like fucking like
oh, I didn’t mind things drilled through to my optic nerve
with fingernails to spurt but the birds are now out here
and tomorrow is the hottest day ever they’re saying
and they have those little quick hollow bodies don’t they,
flying unknowing they’re dead and turning eyes necrophile
like the trees do, the streams and whales &c.
in the water glittering more salinated
under maybe one-to-seven specific men with knives
unseen but still with knives and still living killing
the little quick hollow bodies we’re sharing and binding
one day together in toothed or eyed response
drawing new things to penetrate our jellies I guess, I hope
Patrick Ball is a writer in Sheffield, UK, and before that he did some philosophy in Philadelphia, PA.