‘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