CYCLOPS

CYCLOPS

that stinking,

stagger-

           ing

                      brute.

holding fast

all-

           ways

                      to

an oversize

ego

:;:

One eye, today

One I, today

:;:

that eye, I see

reflected in

a fetid puddle

that I, eye see

reflecting on

that stagnate self

until some knot-

eyed not I pierces

the veil of sight

and self.

DIN

DIN

Ein Aug,

:;:

Eigentlich

:;:

cut the wor(l)d from our

skull, a way left

:;:

in silence, here

a scratch, a battered

notebook, too much

unloved, the white of

god’s eye, another moon

of this wor(l)d, an
other year of fakes,

an unfinished list

:;: