Terror Fragments

The sky a cloud like a roof on the city
My broken throat
The broken window
My broken throat
Clamping down upon the kill
My throat a kill of metals
And acetylene ravens
Breaking apart the kill

We should be going now
This distant familiar winter returning

My throat of broken bellows

*

Take this as if a letter
To patrol men and to the shore
to pray of light
To the cruising ones
laying back in dream
To the crave throated
who perspire their inner brow

Dilated beginnings must be taken
In through the eye

Transmitting like light
over a wall

My throat dilated with language
We should return to our penny slippers
throat shifting in the kill deeper

Letter out

We continue as reflections within the absence    stand inside the absence only newness at heart in the altered

We are damp with life at the edges of our own enclosure    the outer world having flushed us from our selves    our reflections rise from bed and decorate themselves with clothing

The telegram arriving    only art remains within the circuit of meaning

The post office with a hand written note not accepting packages or parcels

I would like to discard every part of myself    other than that which witnessed    I want to touch it    to gather it    to distribute the soft music of conglomerate sirens    at a distance sounds like an orchestra tuning

bank computers are down     channels of absence   after without ending

my throat the broken window     my throat the growing wheel