17.07.25
These agitants in the saturnalia bough
that feeling uninhabitable
& the frangible bits I have two ghosts
they are both zoned backward
The London Plan & where are my eyes now
the secret parts of me are
pushed to the perimeters of wework
the mystagogy of Aviation House
in the downdraught gravel
between the pills I take is a horizon
keystepped cotched bramble heads
the still gripping lamina
the what little legal entitlement
so rent the wind instead you say
under nightfall ambuscades
the soles of my hands are red
piercing, excruciating din
I’ve been provoked all my life
like County Hall scoured to Shrekworld
like these phrases hybrid glass
hill-edged jack-spiked beside
so little respite
something falls out
of my mouth & you laugh
