hang up your blood cell phone mr white slaver
hang it up, we’re all here
the police is here
the former government is here
the new revolutionary government is here
science is here
poetry is here
the dictionary is here
jazz and its history are here
charity is here
the major food groups are here
the major museums are here
the urchins are here
all arguments for the existence of god are here
trance is here negritude is here
the surrealists are here
the ice cream is here
a clash of ethnographies is here
sad choirs are here
dust is here
the changing names of the oceans are here
summer is here with its accelerations inside a big slowness
the siege, the sack and the ransack are here
the swirling behind the lip

is here, the back biscuits
the tent of sleep
the plan to hurt it all
the plan to hurt hawks
the wild hawk caress
the dizzy sky and on
the foam on the neck and on
the eating
the raping
the dandelions
the churning hip, her corrupt hip
her butter gears
the awful rocking
the work shed
the shed smell
the clear rib, clear all, clear sweethearts
the animal char stalag
the snow after, the snow in the weeds
the Come shadow come the Take this shadow up

we have enough girls
we have enough pills
we know who is ‘it’
they have their little shovels
there is no one to call
hang up your blood cell phone mr white slaver
hang it up




Photograph © Arthaey Angosii

The Fig Tree and the Wasp
My Queer War