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Friday 24 February 2012

Gary J. Shipley-


The neck’s no cul-de-sac
Frayed bullets tussling 
Up and out open mouths about
Just about speaking, but they’re
Happy most the time
The monkey traps don’t bite
And the voltage is all teeth.


forum of the half-invented
hosted by non-donors
followed at distance
back to damp stacks
by their instruments
to percussion of stab heels
spoiling pliable skies in
sting estate of creepers
unique in flaws in echoed
soundscape of corpses
jangling in canning bomb
towers and mirrored parks
imagining ritual blindness
in late-night architecture
clap nerves in the metal
artistry in the tangle
fingers in commentaries
scalpels rocking clean
set tubes scorching out 
gram traces of ceremony
a world’s invisible centres
from a dying machine 
of clunk cut wire flowers
late in the fabricated
spectacle –paralyzed – 
a technical suffocation
fielding an asphyxiate seed


All my birthmarks have been erased
Ripped out like people out of senile brains
And yet no trace of espionage
Or fumes of droppings of Goya bats.

Genetic playthings of appetites grinded
Into various mutilations of fatigue
Looking to be bred from the mucus
of nuclear eyes prevented from forming.

The world a scab of particulate violations
Epileptic worms of light in sagging human turf. 

Gary J. Shipley is the author of Theoretical Animals (BlazeVOX). More details can be found here.

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