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 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
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
new virtues waking harborage
of masseuse chairs in Hauptbahnhof
are actual police hidden between
proxy codes wire to wire
the noises it makes
living the pissed out communiques
as doctrine or filigree the finest truffles
from Kernzone
are buried in Heimplatz
guarded by probers
secrets wrapped
in amice rust
& muted song
the bedsporned cultus of medicine
is cruel paste trespassing
my reuptakes &
so I go again
into this suffering city.
