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The hell and the heft of it

L'Afrique:

Bone-marrow transplant

Au Paris

Brutalized eyes

In a skull.

A husk of image

In an empty skin.

Thin. Thin.

Skin as tight as light

As shadows flickering

On a man with eyes like vipers.

Solemn, slow, the tusk begins to grow

From blood and bone. 

Limousines shudder

Yams decompose

Draining the body fluid

Into the sewer beneath

Tke-Tke

The analysand.

Above castle stone

In Normandy or Picardy

Thunder rushes to the hills beyond

Topographically, a slave-state.

Yet slivers of the skin remain

Under thumb nails

Locked in splintered wood.

Falling, we hear the drums,

Beyond any horizon,

Out of step, and falling. 

Regards sur I'Afrique, Advertising Poster, Art Print

 

 

◄ 1995

Isolation ►

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