ghost dwells in me

gleefully he sees what my eyes often flee

freely he feeds on sea air still sat sweetly in lungs

saline strength as shanties sung by the un-named and the young

the unsung, uncredited underling, slung low in the hold under which thunder rings “anon”

become below, be calm, be gone, be taken demented and under the throng you claim as your own

agog and alone you sink like a stone until only the loneliest proponents of a nomadic notion can know your location, your vocation, your notations noting rotations in internal voting between this that and the other thing

to hell what consequence may bring, I sing towards Cronos and his all encompassing ring of time and space, you shall never replace the steel in my face for a grimace of fear when the carapace of Jericho draws near

I clutch crablike the spear and peer into an atmosphere of blood and water

I pray this man should have no daughter, no son, no Earthly porter of genes, not a single one to carry on his autocratic authorship of amoral vagaries, lame quarrels and vagrancy, the parlour tricks, the plagiary, the suitably beautifully pleasant and free peasantry you earnestly wish to see in all men of Galilee, this I pray

I play with literary figures in this way, I hang them high, I watch them sway, I do as I may for they are as fictitious as I

suspicious, wry, living lie after blasted lie until denial and self imposed marsupial trial conspire to compile evidence sufficient for the same vile ending as all mammals, all animals, natura acting supreme cannibal as she gathers them all into jaws of Jupiter, shining father

which would you rather?

join the drained in their palaver or carve a larger life from haunted cadaver

the dead is me

the dead is we

we walk with our ghosts that assist us to see

do we flee into the mist and miss the chance to die with our pens at our wrists, our existence a fist to the face of persistent pissants?

with clock glance, I chance a sigh

with ghost I have danced, I lay down to die

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