spinning

the rushing of dark spits and breaks in sharp showers and
breaks in a fever of orange-stained shards on the
skin as though under dead cells and dried blood it scrapes
flesh with lewd teeth and it buries its bite in and
great metal bodies frame crushed paper faces that
turn flaking heads to me, shoot down the road out of
sight in a fountain of noise and bright flashes of
strange eyes; a pulse of strange gazes revolve like the
lights on the sea because I had to leave there for
inside the walls the air filled with the transient
bodies that shifted like breadwinners and in my
blindness I couldn’t quite see them but Jenny, she
followed their outlines with pale expression. At
least she was here, i had thought they had taken her
somewhere that I couldn’t follow their light-bending
hands down my throat, when they filled up my lungs so that
I couldn’t swallow and orange-laced darkness looked
clear and well-ordered so I sit on concrete for
waiting but I know that I have lost time here for
digital numbers would skip in blank steps of fif-
teen and when people would fall in their stupor,
‘cross cracks in the pavement on the other side and I
saw it was him, it was her , and I shouted their
names but it wasn’t – just more silly twister games,
Where did the numbers go? weightless in hand and then
dropping like sand through a finger of glass on the
screen where I saw the hours crumble, I saw the lost
time again, clock sped through tens and I saw the lost
time again, ‘till round the corner you came and I
surfaced, now carry me down to where I can sleep well.