Underneath The Swarm

 

 

 

the Red Queen is on the move

 

wheels are turning

 

  over another ice cream window

 

catafalque for a dead bee 

 

swarming over the oak path 

 

roots in the sand the observation path

 

old industrial music made in a shed on the 

 

outskirts of town at least zone 4

 

climbing a wall of fast dissolving sand

 

he clasps his sceptre

 

you are outside the zone

 

correction you need to go back

 

the skull’s head tooth wont grip anymore

 

you’re out of your depth

 

feeling lion manes against your swimming feet

 

unable to resist 

 

looking back in the swell

 

what the fills heart to make it

 

sore of horror 

 

what wants to 

 

allow

 

us to make barbeques

 

let us invite some friends

 

talk about the shared experience

 

meet me in the orangery 

 

we have something

 

important to discuss

 

it concerns imperial matter and 

 

coagulants in the king’s old legs

 

strike 

 

action

 

withhold labour 

 

now you’re neither woman 

 

nor man

 

but the swarm that moulds itself around the face of 

 

a god

 

then follow the path that leads into the wood 

 

trace map lines across bark

 

follow Pan

imbibe with them

 

feign 

forest lust

 

find the hut

 

a head rolls out

 

back dated 

 

because we’re thick.