"...And perhaps
From the high place I filled no more removed
Than that her mournful and imperial hands
Might urn me in a star?"

--Balder


CANTO V. ("Carbon Dioxide")

Perilous is my method
Diogenes bulb
senseless barking in bruckle language
the damage
is what makes us whole. City of throngs, goitrous,
shuddering with purpose: mad scripture
lacking word for 'oxygen'
song that expands when it freezes, like bismuth,
my license
feral and morbid
sets free the culver
stuffs the curious hamster
and depicting snow, sets fire to the canvas.
A foundry
for whispers, riffs, intricate havoc
a refugee's frayed map to dampen
and smoothe in fullness
of sanctuary. Darkling plain of civic
potholes rotkohl the olive
branch weapon
rusted hulks and blood thirsty
winds, no more jetlag,
this dinosaur grease binge at last, bilge
spewed, brings warmth
and peace like hydrargyrum with a pitchfork
the handshake acrid
the benign exchange of another coinage
the will to be vertical.
Small pablum
to narrate seemly loll, such incense
as Swarga
attains. Riant nebula,
whose nameless radint deserts new make turbid
my daydreams, magpie
of mathoms that i am. Algolagnia
hefts the boyg.
Not even Beethoven's Sixth
knows it. Lethargic
maggots cheer this aileron's filthy
edge. The caravan urge, infectious,
out of jahiliyyah climbs the wet rampart
and eavesdrops on a serpent
in Deutsch,
Al Aaraaf access.

fa'o (for G. d. M.)


"...But this terrestrial sovereignty,
This sublunary verge and late domain
Of empire, who shall save it?"

--ibid