this is only an earshot visual

of a story

    of blue cords of flesh

twisting through rapids

    water babies being throttled /         as if abandoned

a black-eyed Madonna

prays for a mosaic sign of peace

promotes miracles

by rubbishing her mortal coil /       

                         for a price

          she takes off her clothes

and like a keen carnivore

I’m supposed to be impressed

        roll over Shostakovich

              I wish you were here

roll over homo erectus / homo sapien

homo anydamnthing

         the hunt is on

               is ever elusive /

                    fleeing

           the river starts its plunge

                    by cavorting with girls

                        washing their bodies

                 by hyperventilating about them

    sucking their prattle into swirls of foam

           the river

                  pulls at substances

        that drag down each day

        that clog arterial reflections

on glazed horizons -

couples

             in their idolatry

   hump against trees

   skim flat stones

   tread water

             the talk is about multiple progressions

of one flash flood after another / one tumult

one invasive

          white-wash of inherited gruel

it’s all good / all okay / says the talk

around this colonic sluicing out

of a worm’s full gut

      I drown messages

          as they come

     depending on mood-swings

the quick

and

the slow        

            some are gabbled

            some bloody too long –

I push them under

until the gasping is all done

  until the

       dosing up on daylight

       becomes too much

       the toxic beverage

of hallowed be thy name

begins to kick in

the river is the extroverted pretender

of this team / the builder of excursions

      it fends off the claws of blackberry

             reels

                   under a sun

firing         melanomic slugs

it’s about running with the team

       keeping up

          spanking arses

and not looking back

     at the pillars of salt

of particular people I know

       already crumbling

     the river

convulses at the idea

        of sharing its stench its evolution of fake shamans fake prophets

        failed water diviners decomposing amongst rocks

best scenario ever

and Dmitri

I wish you were here

to witness this virgin

         squeezing painfully

                 from her grave