‘I’ voices a verse   invents an open window
in an empty room   inverted portraits of the
relations between things   approximate notations
comfort and convince   this taut interior

so tense the light shivers   eyes itself leaving
and wishes it was glass   blending a bleach blaze
out of window’s ice   dry ice and metal thunder
gusting down storm corridor   stained by glass

leaking out of leaking   appropriates no takers
to plug the blasted gap   a blast of light bringing
contingent disorder   seeking always seeking
hyperrealist presentation   in tarted up whispers

I hear the ego’s endless echo as I start vespers
its hellish intent noised out of mind-shreds
often disguising itself as everyday carnage
to crash my body across the chequered tiles