Homeless Sun


inspired by pampered materialists pushing books on how to get nirvana forever while arriving from end-of-the-wealth orders whose only concern is wandering between special feasts and diets and signing petitions to protect endangered species, fashioned and on the other hand,  after talking to a homeless person

between toilet and scaffolding
seasonal socka under sandals’
scavengers flushed out bustards,
in the middle of the pigwash
in the spider’s heart

axis smuggling honey
in the lungs of the forgotten dragon

they feed on the    wash of light
they feed on the headache of solitude
the hypocritical tenants of the silence feed
in anti-Images, et symphoniæ

Give me the  torn yours, thrown yours                                                            from the basement tapes  restored cymbal
according to the designs of its predecessors
out of suitable doors
who drank the moon’s blood
dusted with streaks of powder
infections, poison, parasites
coal notes and
bewildered Kafka

I raise the torch for the sun they shut off last night
from the current meter

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