Who knows the enemy
He is a shadow
He is familiar
He lives far away
He lives next door
He speaks in tongues
He crosses borders
He secures borders
He knows what you fear
He fears you
He faces you
He surrenders
He accepts conditions
He plots against you
He is hungry
He is sated
He is you
Crow Feather Totem VII
for Andrew
On the last day in my animal body
I find a hawk feather
Branches rattle like a war dance
Light streams down in sheets
Decolourizing the leaves
When I pick up the feather
It bursts into a blue flame
In a world of parallel stars
Returning to the Field of Play
“The instant of decision is madness.”
Kierkegaard
I know this from saving penalty kicks,
From diving left or right,
From rushing attacking strikers,
Plucking crosses off hostile heads.
Other times, instinct at the instant
Of decision saves a certain goal;
Truth deflected, the blindness
Of Planck time, our truest guide.
Sometimes all a keeper needs
Are intimations of immortality,
Offside shadows, rebounding voices,
To know position before location.
Age of Dictators
War and without war
Blood and without blood
Fear and without fear
Victory and without victory
Program pogrom
CrISIS critical
Terror tautological
Fake factuality
Anonymous aborning
Innocent impedimenta
Desert dysphoria
Media miasma
War and without war
Blood and without blood
Fear and without fear
Victory and without victory
Oil ochlocracy
Saudi serendipity
Christian camarilla
Jesuit jihadists
Atrocities attenuated
Realities remontant
Twitter tergiversating
Hyperbole hokum
War and without war
Blood and without blood
Fear and without fear
Victory and without victory
Freemason fraternizers
Russian revanchism
Rothschild revisionism
Chabad chutzpa
Oligarch oppugnancies
Totalitarian turbidity
Illuminati ingravescence
Bilderberg biddables
War and without war
Blood and without blood
Fear and without fear
Victory and without victory
Crow Feather Totem VI
Walking on a windy day
My shadow flew away.
Next day the wind was back,
My father vanished into black.
Walking on a windy day
My mother fell to earth.
Next day leaves were flying,
My eldest left the house.
Walking on a still day
My shadow shows the way.
Words for a Friend
RIP Andrew Bellon
One who encourages poetry in others– encourages more life.
One who shares the poetic in everything—shares more life.
And one who lives poetry– outlives death by its own abundance.
The Unspeakable Girl
The divine girl is missing
From Poland, from Czechoslovakia,
From Hungary and the Ukraine…
We mustn’t speak about the divine girl.
She has gone into the streets
And brothels of Europe,
Tel Aviv and the Emirates…
She has gone into the underworld,
Vanished into namelessness,
Passed through corridors,
Swallowed the darkness.
She is unspeakable, expendable.
Shh, don’t speak
About the unspeakable girl.
