It is.
It is a ball surrounded by lightning
and the mercy of cosmic rays
being hurled through space,
again and again finding itself
in the same place.
It is a ball made of razors
and childrens legs and bar parties
toasting another days defeat
and its return in hot drums
confessing night
beyond all referendum
and cooking naive rhetoric
........
insanity goes through us
like a train, a drill
coming in both sides
of the room,
both sides of a nameless
street,
like two ears
blinded by sulphurous words.
........
it is not peace. it is
not death. it is something
else, this pure violence
where i come from.
it is not peace. it is
not death. it is something
else, this void where
it all starts again.
.........
the preacher is preaching infinity again
and again. I know I will not leave
the room alive.