qi moves like a lion
apparently
backwards into the shadows
forwards into the fray
the same particles:::
earth ellipsing our dead skin
splinters in our hearts grip
the wood plank we set ourselves upon.
coming into us (out from us)
seems to be the only thought worth having-
that the man sipping diamonds off the ass
of a princess, shares the same incomplete
energy as the fly pouncing on the shit of a homeless
man at the side of the road, near the racetrack.
the composition mirrors
as the impossible takes us in its turn
and sews its invincible pathways into our veins,
has its way with us,
then wallops us over the head with its club,
dumping us at the side of the railway,
moist diamonds in our pockets and shit
on our shoes.
~ M. Lucia
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