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Bone marrow transplant au Paris

Brutalized eyes in a skull

A husk of image

In an empty skin


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.


The analysand

Above castle stone - in Normandy or Picardy -

Thunder rushes to the hills beyond.

Too like you to stand these waves,

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. 



City of the Bee: 22 May 2017, 9:31 pm ►


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Mae Foreman

Fri 22nd Mar 2019 10:43

I love it John and not just for the first line, it's exquisit poetry everything that comes out of your pen. That needed to be said ?

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John Marks

Thu 21st Mar 2019 22:10

You understand it very well Mae. John

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Mae Foreman

Thu 21st Mar 2019 21:15

And then, funny thing, I read it again and just a glimpse of the first line is enough! I now get it 100%!
Thank you again?

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Mae Foreman

Thu 21st Mar 2019 21:10

I'd like to understand this beautifully laid, enticing poem better but my poor puny brain isn't helping at all! Still from just a hunch my heart knows I absolutely love it!
Thank you ?

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