:::

 

A great comfort I won't be cheated of

so charred the birds' wings take off

out of themselves the pots rumble

the cuckoos' pitiful caw

after the passing of towering clouds

a sea that sinks and sinks its dolphins

and all the weapons you load your sentences with.

 

That comfort withdraws debt-free

slow gifts to give

I empty the hysterical recognition of dead

seagulls like hail-born seagulls

your hairstyle is so sick that the shadows mash

you talk like porridge you sleep in

a sea that sinks and sinks its dolphins.