Vaunt Lament To the man I have mortally wounded, as I strip him naked Never mind your pride. Forget how you never grow too tired to fight.  ...

ay you stood there nude you’re mud  & you won’t forget only really you’re a foetus of labouring dark, on lunar milk binging  by this low...

like I say I’m in love with our unlovesickness, with these feet never flitted out from under us. how sweet to run my fool mouth, how sweet a...

After Brecht's An Die Nachgeborenen. Undeniably I live in dark days. Any word without guile is absurd. A soft brow means a hard hea...