parades in the street (variation on the themeless)


engine colour scaffolds the inertia

constance the eight-fold a crowning evacuee

heed warning post from deadmen’s hands

who weave reverberation with sky sea and soil

a catastrophic dyskensia  relaying volley after volley

unloaded from outwith skin

a rapture for the unworthy took a week to compute

an algorithm tachycardic with the selective dispensations

imperial with it all these robes suffocate

the king and the prince the knight and the fool

listen listen listen

the pulling apart of wings the meshing of the wires

the ornamental air crash that eliminates all needs

i haven’t seen a soldier yet i haven’t seen a soul

i haven’t seen a crooked demon i haven’t heard one tell a single lie

and accelerate into the oncoming

keep careful concentration for the wisp of gas and the

electrode is in the confessional

belting out a litany of in my thoughts and in my words

what i have dones and failed to dos

and haven’t you got a fantasia yet to glaze your eyes

with chemistry and the masses rumble and the toil is pure

and the fascist has the only call

a telephonic panic attack a last night messenger

who’s lungs collapse

deflate the truth and enchant the world

a little boy is a little girl

they’re sending forth and holding back

the burning of our mausoleum as the train becomes the track

you speak to me of shining things and tell me it all comes loose

hold onto the little world the little world holds you back

constance the eight-fold evacuee

i haven’t heard a demon lying yet

we build these ruins by hand


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