A most insatiable covetousness, divided that among themselves with which all the rest might have been well supplied, are far from that happiness that is enjoyed among the Utopians; for the use as well as the desire of money being extinguished.
Thomas More
Zurich behind a rust packet
my cacodylic eye spent
collapsed to turbulent
tectonics of bumps,
kidney shaped abscesses
curling black lids fading shells
exploding firebox all screws
& bolts dead 227 figures
meant for Linz Entartete
Tyrol locks Germania
in a thousand springs
on Bahnhofstrasse
unconditional Basic Income
scolded Schlaraffenland
underneath the light there is always
intervening on the ground
under the pie-tree
so filched another rent rising
to clear pales dapple-greys
all but rain between the buildings &
you settle wet wrapt’d churning
this sodden silent aperture
on tumuli Blancpain ditch of frogs little accelerators
for new virtues
the waking harborage
of masseuse chairs in Hauptbahnhof
are actual police hidden between
proxy codes wire to wire
the noises it makes
living pissed out communiques
the doctrine & filigrees
of your finest truffles
from Kernzone buried in Heimplatz,
guarded by probers
secrets wrapped in amice rust
& muted song bedsporned
this cultus of medicine
is cruel paste trespassing
reuptakes & so I go again
into this suffering city.
