and indeed sometimes, from the heights
of frenzy i descend into a sober shortening -
i want, no, beyond wanting - i write poetry
with such quantum arithmetic so haphazardly
arranged... you’d think world war I
was about to begin...
the whirlpool with the serbian assassin,
the poker & blackjack of exchanging allegiances,
the sudden outburst of tanks on a conveyor belt,
the quickened rearing of horses,
extracting iron from soap and chocolate even,
collecting all the rats of london as carriers of
greater misdeeds than even the bubonic plague (t/n/t
strapped on their backs)...
the memory of the scent of a chemistry lab
with rock sulphur as if reminiscent of the vapour mustard
where the hydrogen attaching itself to oxygen
unbound the poisons of sulphur & chlorine;
but as they say... there's a method to this madness.