As Erysicthon,
we may discover our
children have become
horse then bird
ox then stag
while famine consumes
our house from within
something may die
for the oil who powers
our chainsaws and
inexhaustible hunger
who will recognise
our sons and daughters?
where the men who open
their mouths in slander
against matter - trapped
in a Cartesian dream
a single leaf falls at
the four-square golden
gates of Jerusalem
a single explosion may
erase the memory of
an entire generation
the old men of the demos will watch as a famine of the
imagination overtakes us
in our dreaming chambers
and only the meat living
on our own bones
will nourish us
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