neither poppies
in headland,
or grille pasture
at 20,000 Hz
shocks the most
innocent
aerosol button into
the archive rib cage,
there is a country somewhere
because of rare flora
fostering the dead ones
raise it to the height of
ninety-five metres,
O' my sons
mouths reversed
mouths reversed
what ran our
post-industrial heritage
outdone
music is damage
on the body
so sky turned transducer
is not broken it
fixes the grass-
put the music on!
press quid pro quo
such is a grafting
of flesh,
catching sweat rolled
the brow into a half-pipe
holds the languid
taurine up faced
pinned concave,
borrowed the dish and
everyone spat
into the biggest hole
you have ever seen
not even tasted
inside as even
is in you
wear headphones
and compete with them?
