it's the outskirts of london,
it's night,
   and the fog has filled
the air
  like it's a day
from late 19th century
(of said city)... am i to succumb
to finding the globous
lights of soho
and some sort of otherwise
remnant of glitz?
i have a blank
piece...
     a vacant blank...
i'm drunk enough
to know i've been
fasting...
   i need my itchy
fingers to
make up the arithmetic
of spelling...
i figured: speaking
is too easy...
and all the freedoms
that entails...
i'm a rat needing
to find the underground...
i need to keep my snout,
sniffing out the above-ground
air of the main, stream...
like i am to identify
the stream of a river...
       i need
the wound to fester,
i have to fathom
the gangrene potential
and...
start treating the cancer
like a wait, wish, good luck,
of the cancer growth
sprouting "off" trees
in the form of viscum
(not found in trees
in western europe)...
what are you
looking at?
english society has made
me...
            one for me
to acknowledge any bad luck
or a figurative
claim of the zodiac...
  for more bad luck
acknowledgment...
i have to heave
a shadow and see
the sun cast a pawn piece
out of it...
on the chess-board
       of everyday fears...
but i'm not here for
the h'american petty
purity of a freedom
only associated with speech...
i'll show nuance,
whenever i want to will
nuance...
elsewhere...
freaky-oid examples..
   my tongue firmly lodged
in a mind worth
an expression of
absence...
     and all the heaving
cult-heart soft-spoken
riddle of the itchy finger-tips...
remains...
            poems like
crosswords...
but less associated
with an i.q. "stigmata"
of precursor thesaurus
riddling,
   and no sherlock holmes-esque
attitudes...
   what mystery was there
to begin with?
   i thought that there was
only punctuation
to mind?
        
i guessed wrong...
              you know...
come to think of it...
   dasein is almost like
ruhm...

i'm starting to suspect that
the two terms are more akin...
although...
  ruhm has more attaché
expedients to ascribe itself
to / for... perhaps even: with...

     pedantry of language
does not belong in any mainstream
expression...
      this is my baby,
my trans-gender womanhood...
i've acquired this alien tongue
from my basic
pollack beginning...
   from my: ja, polak, zawód,
zbiór, tego, tamtego i, owado...

         but of course the natives
will not inquire into this curiosity...
not having visited
alien or alienated peoples
in their full splendour,
of, say, Paris, circa 2005...

        my parasite of
my usage... and all that i gave
this tongue...
   the sought-after incubation
of merger from its
inorganic status,
to an organic fusion...

          it's as if i want
to feel... what a woman might feel
in order to serve a puncture
of a subsequent function
of: an otherwise mundane
spectacle of, checking time
on a wristwatch...

   but to entertain trans-genderism
on a scale that would
employ taqiyya tactics?
    to gamble...
    on a "thai surprise"
                            excavation?

i gave birth to this language,
in a body,
and mind,
that would otherwise
have said:

   ja dałem życie tego
    języka
    w tym ciele,
   i tym umyśle,
   które, inaczej,
by powiedziało... to.