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theyre building a city of smoke
there is nowhere beyond the smoke of our
fires
smogrise where the traffic starts
I pledge the hours to this
theyre building a city of smoke
in reflections
laid down like ointment
a carcass of rust shifts with the tide
endangered horn the best half of the cargo
thats how the connoisseur sees
from afar
where wheels have turned
theyre piling the weed
mud into islands
clogging the delta
theyre building a city of voices
hailing the city
with acclamation
in river drift of light
ghosts loll
out of the funeral wishes
a city
burning so slowly
the harbours becalmed
all lulled to a trance
for the wheels
ceasless turning
city of streetcorners
on attend le monde ou lavenir
which bright mark of eyes upon?
brief pacing
in a puff of breeze
the town blows off
like dandelion fluff
where the skin had led me
nails get in
now its done with mists,
thin, thick: theyre wrought here
sacred wounds are inside, the scars
all hallowed
the trimmed beard itching to its chin
lips set, eyes shut
the shaved legs stubbly, they itch too
the stockings sweat
cities are built of
what gathers the hunters,
tethers timber to wish
it all requires an audience
in order that it mean
and so the cast of sun aside
perhaps it was too hasty?
those lamps that
burn without a flame
they are not long among us
never count out the beast too soon
that spoils the pawing in the blood
at hazard only youll neglect
the skins affections and its rights
the complex drift of streets
their secrets infinite if slight
the town grew up round this clot of weed
there was a need to heat
the pot
sun must have shown dry
some instance of jungle
this is the city of forts joined, charcoal
fume trapped
how many last breaths have their been in
this cause?
still theyre building
I cant think what
could stop them
this I think must be our ultimate cause
and while I have breath
I will witness
smogrise where the traffic starts
I pledge the hours to this
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