Coping Prana

It is the way I breathe

through chronic terrifying ferns

through a black ungracious stoma

it is this uranium rejoinder

this impact pointing backwards

& when witnessed

causes observers to panic

to blur

& forget

& to flee

they can’t see my approach

my wayward dorsal looming

my lettering in black drizzle

it is my approach

my weaving

my sigil as curved embankment

therefore

I can never name myself

or plot myself

according to the sparks or the splinters from the work bench

dazed

ruthless with salivation

with my awkward insular roaming

I am like a few darkened eaglets riveted against the moon

then I am brought to a table by deafness

feasting with herons

which spins me by embranglement

by in-circular abatement

always seeking to have me neutered beneath my derma

so as to talk to myself

so as to cancel my structureless scrutiny

they speak of me as lawless

as despicable

as a typhoon in a sea well

as to morals

as to fixed & accelerated combination

they fix me

as deserted

bereft

as a fragment from a starving lion’s compendium

I am considered

as pointless positron without image

as hieroglyph

as sundial

as martyr

being leakage from a barbarous index province

Source: Compression and Purity (City Lights Books, 2011)