has ceased to provide
its mutilating function
Descartes has severed us
entirely
from the bravery
of being whole and ignorant
of refusing fire and making
love and war
in the same anti-time
we rejoice
at the challenge of destruction
and forget the ease of ruin
the engines of despair working us ceaselessly
well I am incapable
unwell I am capable of anything
except to add more paper to the bonfire
of Earth's dead shell
which we inhabit like a plague