violence begets marigolds

the streets of Paris are awash with treacle men detach their jaws women are boiling shrimp and children sell candles to the poor.

be outrageous
unpack your suitcase and make
your revolution here
take your dreams and
eat them on a scone
choke the police with sausages
stifle the rich with flowers
give handkerchiefs to the homeless
feed your offspring to the dogs
feed
your ancestors to the owls
admire

the insolence of rebellion

that trembles in the corners of the night.
leave your homes
leave your cars to fester in the road
leave your trees your almanacs your wives
the woods are alight the wind
shudders with pillows of sperm

sous les pavés les prunes

give
false limbs to the shadows, give
wine to the falling rain.

there are nipples under the stairs

lie down in the fields stand up
at the passing of the day.

our sleep will be more profound
by the light of burning churches
raise your head and feel
the colour of your arms
may
they tremble like a stone
the waves that engulf your bed will reach
from your fingers to the moon

only the short deserve the blind
let them
slide
onto the spikes around your womb

wear your kittens on your sleeve
the summer
will pelt our armbands with steam
the evening
divides like an amoeba
the sun
is wrapped in a blanket of nails
the tramway
is outlined in figures of shame

the caravans of evening meet
the obscenity of dawn
throw understanding to the crows. Tonight we dance on the rails.
a perfume of insurrection
floats among the pillars of the world
the people exchange
waistcoats of mashed potato
for
the bullets of desire

join hands.
the ceremony of wax unites
the hopeful and the shamed
those who shout the loudest hold
bright spanners between their knees

a fake bat
circles the Eiffel Tower

they have gold but we have ancient skies
cover your toenails in lard
and piss on their sacred effigies of rhyme

soap bubbles rise from our screams. The world
belongs to those who shine
your obsessions make their rifles sing

throw pigs at the evening shade
write poems with the anger of your veins
sleep beneath the eyelids of your brain

tomorrow will smell of the sea

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