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Vertical river
hundreds of trains headed to hundreds of places
carry scribes obsessed with their tablets.
they sit opposite each other and bow their heads as in a prayer,
neurotic and silent, typing the great modern Latin
of this terminal empire.
and every sick morning the CEO of some market-leading
multinational corporation cries alone under the shower
tears get mixed up with water and baptise him in a jordan of nonsense
where money can't save him from death before pain
from death before death.
yet somewhere, where day breaks, a monk sits down in surrender
and stares at the body of his brother decomposing like snow under the sun.
his gaze is fixed and holds rather than looking
incessantly holds for hours and hours what we really are
even when our lungs blossom into tears for the first time – that won't be the last.
because now the world's a man who opens his arms before the sea of pain
and doesn't believe in shopping anymore. and a killer whale rises from the sea
shaking its tail, its mouth open wide, all of our names carved on its teeth,
it screams you're over now! over! and takes him away
from where he maybe came.
so just open your arms and give in to what blood screams
to what seed chases to what egg receives
to what bones protect. open your arms and raise your skull
like it was the absurd source of this great river
of this great vertical river.