Knackered (an Ode to Bancini)
Ah
Heavy-lidded baby
Silvan tongue from mouth, spurting
Dusktime fires emboldened for Woden
On those slopes wooded with sloping women
Everything, all these rites at present mediated by me
I’m sapped, I look sapped, please
I (often) don’t need reminding
X
Blackened bones, mine,
Dance among them — I invite, I insist
(Why did I make you make me eat that)
And then that liminal space
Where the somnambulist expires
And libido clings on just about
Une mal transition
Mistress of cockerels
X
Whatever: a whipped horse or an elephant’s graveyard
I swell and though I could burst I’m sure I wouldn’t really perish if I did
And I repeat a prayer for (the whole) of phenomena
Just as it (all) seems to say one for me
Serpent?
?Yeahyeahkindofwhynotmakessensedoesn’tit?
Now I’m the Ouroboros
Haha. I taste great!
