Cravings                                                                                                                       

Over the hill

another idol of dance and song      has written his name

in concrete rubble.

We do these things                       lest we forget.

We’re good at stuffing our orifices

full of                  heroes.

Once I plastered a wall in hexagons

sat inside the prison cell of a bee

saw life   governed by holy interferences

sheep for the slaughter

dogs at our bones.

Footsteps             pot-hole            years in the park.

Water splashes.               Ancestral cravings

light up

an advertisement’s head.

I show off my coat

ripped from another animal’s back.