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Thursday 27 February 2014

From 'In Damage Seasons'-Michael Mc Aloran

  'In Damage Seasons' (Oneiros Books).

nothing’s bones- (from the final section)


through lock of detritus acclimatised to the fallen lung’s parameters there’ll be to drive the coffin head with nails birthing the fallen attributes

scarred without longing there’ll be the stasis of it the hearse of the ever-laughter spun lest from out of darkened/ choke/ dead space and an empty pageant’s shadow

what forth birthed till struggle else in a pit of night cleft erased welts of teeth and the searing of the salient grin of the none exposed of

struck out from or where till wonder as if to be were to know of it sudden till excise the sharp stab of it the teeth kicked in blank spaces a vertigo of flesh of final fragments

fragments raining falling from the banquet flesh for as long as can be recalled or what words to drag from out of speechless sleepless a turning of black soil and therein of silver lights eclipsed

foraging the breath long-asking of the want in terms of sunlight spit them out your nubs your cancers dry-a-day-a-lock seethe in corners of dissolution’s breathing

all along as if to bite at the frozen cold lack of stone of the stone blood crack a bone the marrow emptied pissing freely

razor glint in dead light churning of where the silhouette falls to nothing’s bones exigent time or the lack of breathing of the wind the meat of it bound till axial exist yet not a trace non-death of a winter’s speech out of which stasis no nothing

forever what/ what bones of sky till breath reclaimed in the drag of here or there said or not till shattered blackened out a clasp of the deaf sun and all the lights there have never been or those that never were


claimed yes forever claimed the eye still roving yes in the realms of the none or the breath not taken settling as ash or a casket's knowing

rat’s pulse tread step-non-step the laughter of children here then spoken of what once till on again the filtering through of the blood hence the cup lifted as if to spite where there is none

mockery of the artery’s abnegation a pulse of rotting silences even breath there’ll be sudden of in the bereft silences unclaimed

death yet always of the death yet as the spark’s breath subtle as the edge of a blade cuts the semblance away the death mask sun there or else ah kaleidoscope in a pit of slashed belonging

from out which the dead longing what waste the blackened veins the puerile none of it ever unto until erased what spun lie and the sudden of each the words no longer there or having fled unto nowhere else

tracing no no power in a white sheet stained with the blood's advance the meat hooks of all birthing and desire cracked stone a scattering of vapours vapours till din of nothing asked of

head what head long distance ahead gathering there’ll yet spoken of as if the meat knew better than the other which is the none perhaps knowing less or more no distance to trace ash in a cold palm strike a match a blessed bloom will follow after

it will say less the walls there as always birthing the breath of none stillness stillness of collapse catascope of bled shadow-knock a deft caress such was the memory there’ll yet be detritus of the vortices of eye breaking forth in semblance of the benign

wounds they say yet what wounds to breach when all is sudden tide a curved spine snap shadow play and the play of shadows mocking the erasing dawn with fingers to touch the dissipating vapours

outlived carried forth by what one asks as if to claim claim what winds to claim what blood to claim what breath to claim spun alack in the none that is in subtlety of 


static between the being and the breaking echoing bones a surge of foreign embers memories shit-stained walls existence bleeding itself dry no marrow the taste for it eradicated all asked of yet said without not a trace by design

there’ll be now circus attributes broken valves of teeth the flesh cast away into some banquet of desire scattering forth

till claimed a headless barrage what head there was never the stitches bind the light together the stitches birth the pale light of no consequence in a suicide of nothing sudden in outcry muted birthed all stepped alone

eye what eye of shut till the last benign furtive as breath-stun harrow a sudden asking of the build of it there or else stench reek of nothing of in the clear light of the nonetheless

non-day or night basking of the following till clearness of speech there was never any of the build to chase the fragrance away hollowed spat out collectively/ no/ that was of another time

yet surging into nothing till ragged bone claimed the eye what eye still roving in the nothing of it  here or there but for an instant into what birthing clogged the breath alone

such is the hearth of silence dragging its cold chamber into the death of all the death of nothing else cold chill breath aside the breath aside the laughter of the still-born ache

governed speech without name till obsolete till obsolete turning turning in the soil of the unforgiving memory till dread or the spasm of the frozen light

shafts of breath reaching beyond the abattoir’s asking telling as if to drift were to be but one in the vacancy of still-dread till shadow forth till shadowless all spun in the absence of the word to grace the emptily of the meat’s futility

here now the room of that which closes its fist around the throat of breath becoming ask of what winds to follow on from when the snare divides the breathing into nothing claimed ghosting the impress of silent hands sands eroded time what time is there ever


flayed or not a dead end sings sun the purpose of nothing teeth in a blaze twisted the nerve’s steel claimed in vortices of the ever-redundant

lack barbed it says the skull says the head what difference till breathen begotten laughs the foreign leg from out from under asking of the bleak till worship of

shadow cast a-dream they say sleep more or less to awaken in a majesty of shit tear the life from the closure of the build etch the skin with gift of absolute mutilation a broken tear flowing ever flowing

what word there was it is said in the beginning there was nothing lying through the teeth yes the teeth once again

approximately flesh depth till din of the non-received in the pissoir tide asking of the non-beginning the non-ending there’ll yet be the laughter of the silent casket a closed door surrogate of no purpose

yet still the sway of chains and the meat hook stylus idiot laughter and the freeze the incision bite what words to define the fucking meat of it the syllabus from aside the darkness grazes till bleed along some silence in-between the none of being

bite down hard upon the vacancy gathering the lightless pageantry to the breast so they say eye alone dreaming of the din eye alone in laughter stone upon stone till nothing having gathered

deafened yes by uproar and the silent word that places itself beneath the tongue of nothing herein the laughter of the claimed adrift what eye the eye of none vascular deaf mute scattered to the winds

ill seen what sung the gift of blind lesser than kicks to the fissure a cold gathering of futureless in the space of a/ the deft hand clipped settling to fall aside there’ll yet what distance breathing alone

blood yes asking of silent though in the breathing of some dreamscape ever-forgotten the lie of the flesh the headless wandering catacomb of breath and the eye unfolding as if it never was


laughter still to knock upon half-worn the fingernails extracted a slap to the face drag drag drag time and all of its light still crawling from the laughter of the depths in a non-space of lightless beauty

unfolding yes flowering unto graven flowers the stench of all none in the streets of the unclaimed blessed to fall what sung

these are the dead lands these are the unseen hands there or else the sun it mocks yet unknowing sing along till breath recedes till the pulse absolves the self of none

here a light there a light the barbed rhythm of night endless dregs dregs and the none till else along the way never motion and the grafted speech

close the door the rest will follow it is said such words resting never of the blossoming death till claimed nothing less than was before till remembered no nothing ever

locked to the sky the sky dead space all around in the bask of the rhetoric of silences enough to remove from glimmer of this or that in traceless broken upon the rocks of abattoir’s removal

yet feeding  feeding frenzy of barricaded teeth the split in the eye birthing the emasculate what tears till final stretch nothing of the alack the meld of skyless pissed upon once more till dearth of silent of

what spun long stretch of the obscene laughter till sky a-alock the din the retch of tears till bled scattered the non sense a bleeding wind

ice of the true shadow till lacking dream till spun of the spent corridor non else in the spurious of flesh burning to the hilt of it the death of galvanised

hence laughter longing and the breath of it till flesh eradicated till skyline of apocalyptic colourings held to the throat what dense silver unto shadowing

till pierce of none of the sunlight emptily absolved here now the traces the vapours cleft smoke drifting from out of lung till resend until erased lung less foreign yes 

IN DAMAGE SEASONS can be purchased here

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