Knackered (an Ode to Bancini)

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Turner — ‘Queen Mab’s Cave’

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!

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