Reuben Woolley

re(:/-) birth

if only there were
some last reckoning , a slashed
throat , a full
blood offering
                        we're
trying . oh gods
we're trying for extinction
we set the seas on fire
crack the crust
                        a final
caesarean , stillborn
& flaming . it comes
in bones , asking for delivery


---


see

see me young
see me old
see me

I dream myself into being

the logic of chance

*  *  *

we invent words

to fill the spaces . to silence

the rattle . but at night

there are still shadows , moving

into corners , hiding behind chairs

*  * *

'm only following

only trying , only

drowning between

the seconds

twice under

and hoping for the final pull

* * *

no regrets , no complaints

we have come through

we are perfect

wordless

* * *

surrounded by stories

walking clothed , stiff

or stumbling

ragged or posh . misread

or simply misunderstood

the lice in the skull

I shall spread my seed

in fertile lands

listen to the earth laugh


---


here

is an empty
vastness . it deeply
unsatisfies , bloodless
& fleshless . coming
from it we do not move
                  demands
understanding , i-
dentification where
dying lasts a life
but this I
is not sufficient
to see no fences . it
is a description
a perfect loneliness