Futurismo #2

A silvery man holds
his teeth to your
throat—in a moment you
will go down on him. The church
I–
      have gathered you sweet
Marinetti,Boccioni,Renkichi;
have made
                    a fetish
of your bones
                        (your papers
treasured stashed
                              beneath the nave
                                                            stone
fails as metal never
fails. Bangalore

the train hurtling giddy
across the rice paddies the thresher
hungry, gleaming, notthecolor
offlesh (bridge breaks
snaps asarms snap fails
asmetal neverfails. I
am silveryman&boy
in his arms Ialtar
and veiled figure slit
against that altar blood
dripping to thirsty throat-
clamoring brick gift

to the future I.—
                              a gray
concrete
           vase filled yellow
plastic
           poppies the windowsill
offered to the rain! tothe rain. A cold
snap; a child tells him
      about the resurrection & how
      if you died good enough you
      got to do it again & how
jesus died good enough. Trains

dont crash. Even when they crash
they dont crash. The hurricane
was mummified, rites recited, linen
wraps cast
                   against its twirling,
desiccated body
                            We
built him a pyramid
                                 iron and steel
iron&steel we have
learned how to worship
we hv lrnd to wrshp w/
our tongues in the forges (our throats
glammered with molten steel)—I—

in a moment
                    of infinite cruelty—
have carved your names
into my back, have cut
                                       skin from stonebroke
spine, have hung my hide
                                           against the rainclouds,
like hlysaint

                     or bookmaker
have stealed myself in
catacombs whispering
       solemnful
into remembering
stones.Wake me
when metal fails(neverfails
)&we willwrite against
       an open throat.

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