Ekstasis (1894/1994)

Possesses all the untrammelled lack of rhythm of a text message or a  quickly written email before you blur out the door.


Ekstasis (1894/1994)


the glass box
imposition of alienation
the gavel – ‘Your very existence is an imposition to equality boy’
His baritone wheezed

Peaking before he’s already begun
Your birdsong is sung
Get out of the colony
This is pure folly – no vacant space
– and into another.
The deck is theirs, destined for diaspora
That bastard Brunel, I’m not there
the century of beautification to begin
‘We live as we dream alone’
crackles on the mechanic’s boombox
One-way, nameless: ‘Is that a book?’
Liverpool to Melbourne 
in 60 days, with the imagined community
Cross-quartered, among the bunks
Robbed, stripped, penalised
The night, thick
heaving with possibilities 
against the ostensible fine-tuning of
Orion, headless
Hercules, legless
lost to the sextants, the bitter night trailing them inside
a faux-cerebral deckhand, quite literally
tearing up like sandpaper, quivers quietly
in six dimensions 
whatever he meant
‘His place wasn’t booked’
and spotting a psychopath in the 
first-class bathroom
A firing range for the existence he spooked
the century of the self to come


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