Pak Choi; Bring me Back

Riley Mackrory
1 min readApr 19, 2024
Gustave Doré — Satan Descends upon Earth

In empty buildings

With similarly empty others

I let a withered organ rattle round the rapture of an empty cavity

The grass wilts and shrivels

With livers given

Unfair hands from self-shuffled decks

X

So I’ve slipped into routines well routined

And show irrelevant things to irrelevant people

To weave a tapestry that, when looked upon backwardly

Might seem to indicate an existence, an identity — somebody there

Dasein

An irony that I’ll gobble up

As ‘aloof’ anathema (once), turns (now) to powder

X

I am aware, acutely

That every alignment (or that which I considered that) has happened

Under the disinterested gaze of a burning star

(The sun, a hot day)

(Well why didn’t you just say that then?)

(I don’t know)

X

And then that blind God which consumes its own young

Gropes after me in arid dusty air with

Mandibles twitching

Like she does every midweek morning

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