currents and
crosscurrents
in the maelstrom of this vivid morning
in it's restlessness stillness beating
on the door to come in
smuggled in the tips of pencils in
the spheres of ball
point pens
verbs
and nouns congregate
a quiet coalition of corridors
arrange themselves around you
some kind of
embrace takes place
some kind of grace
offers it's hand it's window it's desk
and rests
diodes composed in rows
of uniform current
electrons speak
terminal to terminal
language seeps from cables
from chairs and tables secret
conversations machinations
they
plot
amongst the rot
of our festering values to impart their
frustrations their
observations I wish they could
speak the teak
table top and it's compadres
their
eyewitness accounts
of our
tendency to dodge profundity
in favour of ease the trees fuck
they could talk
of the way we walk...by
they haven't considered taxidermy
death by needle clean and legal
sell the heads
of the dead
to oligarchs to basking sharks
eager
to hang their status on a wall
blind
to the blood spilling drip drip drop
onto mahogany furniture
the maid wipes it clean every morning before thawing
her heart
on a radiator her needs greater
numb must drum
her pulse from time to time
an anticrime
as some might say
