Worn tyre on a worn out road
to the invisible city
I ride in perpetuity
men weep for what they have never lost
dogs howl under arc lights of fierce intensity
nothing is concealed except the invisible city itself
death rattle of a ravenous heart

now to sleep
now to wake
under dawn’s grey hood
as a crow picks over the plague grounds

elusive the shimmering fish
silvering the shallows of the day
to a heart half-monkish

bare bulb in an empty room illuminating nothing
headlights on the ceiling at 3am
amber at the window I knew long ago
and am only now remembering

there was monkfish on the table
in between the cracks
I forgot the whole damn thing
all on account of that
all my bits and pieces
everything the holy man said

monkfish on the table

[in fond memory of the worst restaurant I ever had the misfortune to visit]

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