scarif

barbwire unrolls the length of continent : wind playing those low bass strings : how dust scratches (at) this dusk-drone. husked pizzicato up against. and all this ... song ... as if life depended - yours or anothers

rembetika : fado : tuareg guitar : tuvan throat : delta (u.s. or mekong) – each culture has their blues. bleed bluing longest clots of rust, deep-an-low. like casting nets - and in that almost/what? – what's almost there, what just slips thru

like moths flagging and clagging up the night, heartbeats mantling here and so in light. and in that festoon pursuit : chase-leap-dodge, razor-wiring joint off thumb. more than match struck, this is what salvation tastes? after a while they reply, after a while

treatment resist, a book swelled by damp. lengths of spine in gutters. a feather stranded cobweb, wind spiralling furious to unrelease. least the lark ain't descending for now

torsos red sand baroque this doorway dance - night-gripped, fear-heaved-dry - that much spark, don't speak, didn't, not. and after? a globe of wire, sunflowers tooth-spit, was i being asked to garrotte? but no - i'd misheard foxtrot

scars glob lower abdomen, hernia from lifting child, now every time wanting to know why they cant fly. having to cut pace-makers out before hitting the crem. sharp knives in the washing-up rack - point uppermost

sheet glass, there, can you? - all haloed, world word leap. the flicker of faces - the flicking of v's - the licking of wounds. salt in gash before the crash; this noise; all this. take ma blood instead, why didn't? to witness the geometries of flame, fractals of blast, nails-ice riven deep, scream my brother/sister, rip at hearts

rucksack station my huge noise feet / insides a dress in butterfly and perfectly / to the right - wee lass and mother take the free seats, their unbearable smiling on over. lasses hair in little knots, while her mothers are red braids. lass holds out handful of fries, pretending to bite, shrieking with laughter. could outsit the stones, quieter than grass on a windless day, that's what's razoring my mind. and the butterfly dress? his. terrified wearing to honour and ripping seams

~

words: Sean Burn, UK (website)
image: 'colorwise' - bl pawelek, California (homepage)

~

another dive into the unfamiliar: Beirut - Dec 05