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From The Stone Statue Season Collection


The Sunken


Someone walks the earth

with our ears pricked up

we listen from beneath

waiting in the silence of history

for illumination

for all of it to pass once more

We love the pigpen we create

resilient we become

to its odor

so deep we have sunk

that from the surface

only silence remains

The Stumbled Ones


Day after day

fall after fall

treading among the shadows

of those robbed of


Their promise they crumpled

inside the bowels of their past

succumbing to the chains

of their guides leashed

tucked away in boxes

Unlawfully trapped

inside this pit of ignorance

thinking they love themselves

but excrement is no ash

and their hands

have lost the power to create

the substance from which they originated


Genesis 3.14


A tale was told

somewhere in a kingdom far away

not much different from our own

people were born

people with a flaw

the flaw to discover

and recognize their sin

They drank wine played games

doing what every man knows

vainly producing new bodies

patched up from all sorts of flesh and bones

The wine was still flowing

maybe somewhat lavishly

the game went on

and during its occasional pauses

they became obedient

to those bodies that had created

and placed them

in oval cabinets with leather chairs

Frenzied with the game they became

lost in the frivolity

of the words they listened



until one day

they simply started playing playing

going in circles

until their deaths

and births

It happened once and again

in a hilly country of zombies

with lively faces and moves

and hollow insides

A tale was told

like a curse

to the ears it reaches

and they danced


and dance they will

until they are dead

and born again




With thoughts trapped

inside jars of the taken self

they vegetate vainly searching for


that bring back memories

of something lost

Mindlessly they climb

over the tears

feeling the injustice

brought by profits

upon their bones

that pause

and become trees

of a world lost

painted in picture books


A Large Board with a Sign


False people false words

in absurdity begotten

inside the annihilator’s cauldron

the temperature rising

from the global warming

Books taken

dolls given

Dreams taken

bridges given

proportions already drawn

of some illusive existence

of primitive conditions

enclosed with an imitation of trees

with a few ornate birds

Work in progress

do not disturb




Stuff their mouths with dirt

clog their noses with two fingers

watch their maddening being

die in their eyes

Dig pits

an abundance of graves

just for them

Rip out the traffic lights

and signs

set strategic fires

in the corners of their mindlessness

How to discern

to know the eyes gleaming with fear

from the ones that sparkle with passion

a philosophical crime

of unaesthetic effect

but in order to take a breath

for our own sake we have

to roll up our sleeves

and get to work


They Said Wake Up


They said Wake up

scrape the remains off of yourself

clog your mind open your eyes

layered with a distant look

lose the words for they hurt

New moles around the wrist

somewhere out there a twin

has slashed his veins

The phrase Wake up

listen to the earth

don’t get cold

don’t sense its smell

blend and you will be awake

you will be everything

Blur the faces

memories stall you

be clean forget

recognize the sound of silence

the sound of everything the sound of us

Let us say We are awake

beneath us the dust

of all that once was

shall become ground

Let us walk properly



The Unchosen


Hordes thrash the ground

squashing the clenched clouds of everything

lords of thought and shapelessness

tear the threads of ideas out of the soundless Cerberus

anger-driven and discarded

they ravage our only existing possession

No gaps a harmony of rage

they summon the rain that pours through them

whilst resuming their endless path

at their wake they only leave foreboding

and the heavy thud of silence that shrouds the Earth

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