"Free Fire Zone" (Pessoa XVIII.)

Fear, & fear's black fleet, would soon benight
where guessing into ghostly world blur-blends
instant asp scripts. Ridden by spurs so light
he of Phthia plummets to selfsame ends
and churns the hubble bubble's [bubbles]
chambers of vainglorious dividend-nought.

To cranch, to lounge Epona Shi'a troubles
already i forgot
smell of a cold front pushing through the pylons stand
more elegy than otherwise
in the rippling mists i come to take your hand
what we are is nothing · raven's eyes
the fury of the consecrated past,
telegraphed descent to a waste so vast


"Fake Folk" as a movement.


    "Space Food Sticks" (Pessoa XIX.)

Bronzer-abuse, fringefoot tracks not separate
in the deep gaze. Lilac retrofit
only if hazily, boulder-squeaking fate
O Goddesse pitie love and pardon it.

The still apartment, dreamed? So one may fare. [fair]
Since Thursday? From the air, another thought
as long i lay awake and heard a bear
rummage. This the land you always sought?
Derelict, the shape of mockery
not now the beauty found in ugliness;
molten. What clean sunlight more? I call thee
a long way down the line. These wars replace
the rumbling in the walls, though not for long.
Did you want stillness? Then you have it. Were you wrong?


Ann Quin.